


there is nothing in the world that we can count on

by nirky



Series: your heart is the only place that I call home [1]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Character Study, F/F, Pre-S1
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-18
Updated: 2014-04-18
Packaged: 2018-01-19 16:28:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 21,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1476367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nirky/pseuds/nirky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emma Swan has been running all her life, never staying for more than a few months in one place. Until she meets someone who makes Boston seem like the best city in the world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. tomorrow you can totally erase me from your mind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first installment of a series about how Regina finds love and how Emma finds home.
> 
> Standing ovation for my beta, winged_mammal, who helped me so much she might as well have written this herself.
> 
> Much love to preciselyregal and crashed17, over at tumblr, for all the help and support. And a lot of love to darkersky for pretty much holding my hand all the way to the finish line.
> 
> Special thanks to tumblr user saunteringvaguelydownwards. If anything in this fic even remotely sounds like Boston, it's because she told me about it.
> 
> And lookie here, the great artwork countrylobster did for this story:
> 
>   
> **Art by** [countrylobster](http://countrylobster.tumblr.com).  
>   
> [MIX HERE](http://8tracks.com/countrylobster/there-is-nothing-in-the-world-that-we-can-count-on)  
> 

**_September 22 nd, 2008_ **

Emma Swan is used to being mistaken for poor. She doesn’t really mind; she considers it the remnants of her origins. It helps that she has never cared for the heels and power suits typical of those with deeper pockets. She much prefers jeans and boots and tank tops. Sometimes, if people look carefully, they’ll realize that some of her jeans are top quality and a few of her leather jackets are designer brand, but Emma doesn’t care much about where her clothes come from. She hates shopping and everything she owns is derived from personal taste and a spur of the moment decision rather than a need to show off. It just so happens that every now and then her taste gets a wee-bit expensive and she can afford to treat herself.

Usually, she’ll just smile and revel in the fact that people can’t be more wrong about her. But after a long flight, all Emma wants is a good shower and to lie down for a while.

“You must be new,” Emma says, not making any effort to avoid the playful smirk that comes to her lips as she takes in the pleasant-looking girl staring at her like she is mad just for requesting a room.

“Excuse me?”

“Here.” She pulls out a gold card from her wallet, the stylized R forming an insignia with her name signed neatly underneath, and puts her passport right next to it. Her previous experiences have taught her that people’s first instinct is to assume she’s stolen the card. Watching the girl’s eyes almost bulge out of her face would’ve been amusing if she hadn’t been so fucking tired.

“I am so sorry, Miss Cohen, I didn’t know.” The girl fumbles with the pen in her hand, scribbling something on a post-it note before she starts clicking away at the computer. “We have the Regal Suite available. Would that be good enough for you?”

“I prefer Swan,” she manages to say, offering a tiny smile. “And yes, the Regal is more than enough, thank you…” Emma glances at the nametag in a quick movement, “Kate.”

“Of course,” the girl says, typing furiously. “How long are you planning to stay?”

“I don’t know yet.” Emma shrugs, impressed with how fast Kate’s fingers are passing her data to the hotel’s form. She’d never been to Royals Boston before. “Probably just a couple of nights. I’ll let you know.”

“Should I order room service for you?” Kate asks, with a million-dollar smile. If only people were always like that, instead of just after her family name had been brought to the forefront.

“Not right now, thanks.” She picks up her card and her passport from the counter. “I’ll call reception if I need something.”

“Anything you need, Miss Co –– Swan. Shall I call someone to carry your bag?”

“Nah, no need,” Emma replies after a short look at her sports bag. “I’ll see you around.”

She turns and drags her feet to the elevator, checking the card the receptionist has given her before telling the elevator attendant to push the button for the top floor.

The Regal Suite is everything one might expect from a room of that name. Emma can’t say she is surprised since she’s been to many Royals hotels before, but she is appreciative of the fact that they have actually tried to make the place look majestic, with its dark wood furniture and the tapestries on the walls. She laughs when she sees the extravagant canopy bed in the bedroom and catches herself wondering about the practicality of it should she bring someone upstairs.

She places her bag by the bedside table and pulls her cell phone out of her pocket, finally remembering to turn it on. She scrolls down her contact list, humming a pop song she’d heard on the radio in the taxi, and presses the call button when she finds the name she is looking for.

 _“Emma Swan!”_ the person on the other side exclaims, after two rings. _“Long time no see!”_

“Hey, Janey!” Emma replies, her smile passing on to the tone of her voice. “What’s up? I’m back in the States!”

_“I gathered, but the important question is: are you in Boston?”_

“Where else would I be?”

 _“Home, maybe.”_ There’s a chuckle on the other side of the line, but the use of the word _home_ makes Emma quiver. _“You do have a U.S. address, contrary to popular belief.”_

“Yeah, well, right now home is where you are. I promised I’d be here for you.”

_“And I’m glad you delivered. Now where are you, exactly?”_

“Royals.”

 _“Figures.”_ There is a snort and then a moment of silence. _“So we meet tomorrow for breakfast?”_

Emma’s lips quirk up against her will. Jane knows her too well for comfort, but she can’t imagine it being any other way, not when Jane is such an annoyingly perceptive example of a human being.

“Tomorrow, yes, and I’m fine with whatever. Give me a time and a place.”

 _“There’s this nice place downtown I’d like to try,”_ Jane says, somewhere between hopeful and tentative. _“Eight?”_

“Early bird.”

_“Oh shut it, like you ever sleep!”_

Emma laughs, a genuine, joyful sound that she isn’t expecting. She has missed Jane, apparently. “Text me the address. I’ll be there.”

_“Okay. Later, Swan!”_

The blonde stands for a moment, a vacant look in her eyes and the phone mute on her ear, before realizing what she’s doing and dropping it on the bed. She strips down to her underwear and digs inside her bag, looking for her rope. The plan is simple for now: exercise, shower and nap.

*

When Emma enters the hotel bar, it is already ten in the evening. She had dozed off for a bit longer than she’d meant but that is to be expected when one hasn’t slept for more than a day. With lots of cursing and accidental trips in the over-furnished room, she had put on her best pair of jeans and the only tank top that wasn’t dirty after her troubles in Paris. She’d looked at her red leather jacket, her favorite, but decided against it as it is still too warm for such things.

She really needs to buy more clothes.

The bar is packed, which surprises her as it is only Thursday. Does Boston have a high season in September? She idly examines the place, but can’t be bothered to pay much attention to the people there. Still too sober for that kind of analysis, she only needs a table for the time being. Preferably one that gives her a good viewpoint.

She ends up sitting at a table by the corner, feeling like a creep. A young woman by herself in a bar, looking at everyone like they are potential targets? It wouldn’t take a genius to understand what she is up to. She orders a cheeseburger and a beer, because it won’t do to have all the alcohol she intends to ingest that night on an empty stomach, and takes great enjoyment in how large and tasty the damn burger is. Screw French cuisine, she likes it big and greasy like they have in America.

A guy comes and asks if he can sit on the free chair in front of her. Emma takes a swift look at him and nods. Not exactly what she has in mind, but she is always up for conversation. She likes seeing what sort of bullshit people come up with.

Unfortunately for her, the guy turns out to be pretty nice and she is stuck talking about travelling and cultural differences for almost an hour. That’s what you get when British and American travelers sit together doing small talk. She sighs in relief when, two beers and a gin and tonic later, he gets up and says his goodbyes with a big grin on his face, like he has genuinely enjoyed the chat and that’s all he’d wanted from her. Which, Emma supposes, could be the case. Some people don’t want much more than to pass time and enjoy other people’s company. She has a hard time envisioning how it is possible for someone to endure being in the presence of other humans without wanting anything in return. Isn’t that how society works?

She leans back in her chair and whispers a thank you to the waiter who brings her another gin and tonic. Her brain is already on its way to being wrapped around the fuzzy feelings of liquid courage and so she holds on to her glass like it is a lifeline, the cold on her palms bringing goosebumps to her arms. She doesn’t have a very clear idea of what she wants out of her night, or rather, _who_ she wants. She just knows she needs something because Paris had been a mess and she is to stay in Boston for a while and _staying_ always left her with a residual feeling of restlessness that won’t go away no matter how hard she tries.

It is when she scans the bar counter and sees her that Emma realizes she won’t be able to focus on anybody else for the remainder of the night. She sniffs the air as if it is somehow possible to smell the woman from so far away and narrows her eyes, taking in the view before her. A pantsuit, black, obviously expensive – with killer heels to boot. The hair is dark and not too long, stopping at shoulder length. But it is the plump, blood red lips that catch her attention. Those lips are sin and Emma can’t wait to indulge in temptation.

She takes a few minutes to observe the brunette (maybe Latina?) who seems to be alone and also doesn’t appear to be interested in engaging in conversation. Maybe it is the way she scowls every time a man tries to lock eyes with her that gives that impression. Or maybe she is just a bitch. Emma does have a peculiar knack for feeling attracted to the wrong type. There are no nice girls or sweet guys, it is always that: evil ice queens or useless scumbags. Deciding now is not the time to start worrying about such frivolities, she finishes her drink in one sloppy gulp and then wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. She stands up and makes sure all of her clothes are in the right place. She isn’t wearing a suit, but she knows she can pull off a pair of skinny jeans like no other. With any luck, the brunette will agree.

Emma sort of slides over, rather than sits on, the bar stool closer to the very appealing brunette. For an awkward moment, she isn’t sure if she’ll fall down or manage to sit up straight, so she grips the counter until her knuckles turn white and her heart stops beating so wildly. She winces and then almost grins to herself when she finds her balance. Great. There goes the opportunity to look like a smooth motherfucker. She’ll have to think of something else.

But the truth is, Emma doesn’t really feel like thinking. She feels like enjoying herself and having fun. For once, she wishes things didn’t have to be so complicated and why does everything always take so much effort anyway? She just looks at the gorgeous woman beside her and when their eyes meet, a frown on the brunette’s face, Emma smiles an earnest, gleaming smile that reaches her eyes.

“Hard day?”

The woman arches an eyebrow, like she can’t fathom why anyone would dare speak to her, and doesn’t even try to be discreet as she looks at Emma from head to toe, in a slow and deliberate movement of appraisal. Emma should feel uncomfortable under the scrutiny, but she can’t find the strength to care and keeps the bright smile on her face until the woman relents, her features softening.

“Yes,” she breathes, dismissively turning her attention to the wall of fancy bottles and crystal glasses opposite the counter.

“Yeah, tell me about it.” Emma crosses her arms atop the bar surface. “Remind me never to fly seven hours next to a crying baby ever again.”

The brunette looks puzzled for half a second, but quickly schools her features back into uninterested nonchalance. “I prefer driving.”

“Well, you can’t exactly drive from Paris to Boston, can you?” Emma jokes with a chuckle, allowing her curls to fall to the front of her body. “Name’s Emma. Emma Swan.” She extends her hand in a moment of bravery, not really expecting to see the gesture returned.

“Regina,” the woman concedes, after a pregnant pause. She meets Emma’s hand with her own and the contrast feels wonderful and welcome to Emma. Regina is warm where Emma is still cold, and Regina is _soft_ , so soft that Emma forgets herself and holds on for a moment longer than socially acceptable.

“Sorry,” she says, somewhat clumsily, wanting to hide her hands in her pockets but finding she can’t, not in her position.

Regina just smirks, her brown eyes shining with a mirth that tells Emma she knows exactly the effect she has on people and how much she enjoys it. “Paris, huh?” She sips her drink and does it in such an elegant manner that Emma has to suppress a sudden urge to gasp. “And what did Paris want with you, Miss Swan?”

It is in that instant that Emma realizes she is way out of her league. Regina has at least a decade on her and appears poised enough to be perfectly aware of who she is and what she wants out of life. Hell, she probably already has everything she wants. Emma is none of those things. Those things scare her shitless.

“I don’t think Paris wanted anything to do with me,” she groans, averting her eyes for the first time since they’ve started the conversation. “It was just one of those weeks, you know?”

“I don’t think I do. Please enlighten me, dear.”

Oh, the damn woman is making a fool out of her. Emma isn’t sure if she’s tipsy enough to not be embarrassed, but to hell with it, she might as well go all in if she’s already gotten herself into the situation.

“I always wanted to go to Paris.” Regina lifts a quizzical eyebrow, an almost curious expression on her face, and Emma thinks it’s all the motivation she needs. “I was traveling around Europe during the summer and saved Paris for last, because… It just looks so nice in the movies, you know?” She shrugs with a self-deprecating smile. Regina lets out a sound that could be interpreted as a laugh and Emma’s heart jumps a beat, an anticipation of sorts leading her to continue. “With all the lights and the not-so-white buildings all perfectly lined up in squares and rectangles. When you’re in Paris, it feels like you’re listening to Edith Piaf all the time and maybe it’s just a gigantic mental trick, but it smells like roses so often you’d think they have planes dropping a fragrance every two hours.”

“You seem quite taken with the city.”

“Don’t get me wrong, Paris is gorgeous, but high expectations never helped anybody.”

“That’s one thing we can agree on, Miss Swan.” Regina raises her glass a little, as though she were making a toast, and Emma wonders why she hasn’t ordered another drink yet.

There’s a minute of silence that feels like an eternity to Emma. She’s past tipsy at this point and time always passes a bit awkwardly when she’s drunk. A million thoughts cross her mind and none of them seem adequate to help her move along with the conversation, but in the end she doesn’t have to.

“So what happened in Paris?

It’s a window of opportunity if Emma’s ever seen one and she takes it for the blessed opening it is. Emma tells Regina about Paris because there’s nothing left to lose. She tells her about the creepy guy hosting her and feels grateful when Regina doesn’t ask why someone who obviously can afford a five-star hotel is crashing at strangers’ houses. She tells her how something wasn’t feeling right and so she just packed and got out of there (but she doesn’t tell her how natural fleeing comes for her). She tells her how in her haste she left her passport behind, hidden in a hoodie under the bed because she carries her passport everywhere, and got herself into a tricky mess (but she doesn’t tell her how it was her breaking and entering expertise that got her out of the situation).

Regina listens and smiles in all the appropriate moments and even laughs once, a rich sound that somehow manages to vibrate inside Emma’s chest like it belongs there. Emma beams and orders them another drink. Sometimes beginnings are difficult, but after the initial awkwardness the conversation flows so effortlessly that it’s one in the morning before they notice it and it’s the bartender who has to tell them the bar is closing.

Emma feels a pang in her heart because it’s too soon to say goodbye, she’s not ready to let this go yet. She finds bravery in the alcohol pulsating in her veins and grabs Regina’s wrist once they reach the lobby, forcing the other woman to face her. Regina allows herself to be spun around and she doesn’t seem entirely displeased at the contact even if she _is_ surprised, but Emma doesn’t care, can’t care, she just closes her eyes and takes a leap of faith.

A leap that is more like a kiss really, and Emma wants to melt at how Regina’s temperature is just _right_ , at how her lips seem to mold into hers even though Regina is not exactly responding. She’s just _there_ , which makes Emma pull away with a shy smile and a red tint on her cheeks.

“Look. I’m free, you’re free, the night is young…” She trails off, but there’s no mistaking her hopeful tone. She’s sure she’s capable of more eloquence but the ability for words has abandoned her there, standing at the mercy of brown eyes boring into her own. It kills her, this game of chasing after people, this competition against herself for everyone else’s attention.

Regina might just be her personal miracle though because she removes her hand from Emma’s grasp but the corners of her lips turn up and her smile reaches her eyes.

“My room.”

Emma’s knees buckle and she’s impressed when she makes it to the elevator without tripping over herself. The elevator ride is filled with seconds of tension that make her pulse race and her pussy moisten.

She’s not even sure anymore if this is the alcohol making her horny or if it is all Regina but it doesn’t even matter. As soon as Regina closes the door to her room on the second floor, Emma shoves her against the nearest wall and kisses her like she’d wanted to kiss her since she laid eyes on her – with lips and tongue and _teeth_.

That Regina is kissing her back so fervently is nothing short of astounding and Emma can’t be bothered to hide the moan forming in the depths of her throat. With a quick motion, Emma throws her tank top to the floor and for a half-second she feels ecstatic for her choice of underwear, despite the deep pink-almost-purple lace of her bra not being an exact match to the black of her boyshorts.

She pushes Regina harder against the wall and pulls one of her legs to her waist. There are too many clothes and Emma needs to feel more of Regina or she’ll go crazy.

She would never say it out loud, but Emma is absolutely in love with the way Regina’s hands haven’t left her head. They’ve grabbed her face, like she wanted to make the kisses impossibly deeper. They’ve grabbed her neck, sending shivers down Emma’s spine, and now they’re holding firmly to Emma’s hair in an odd mix of violence and tenderness that leaves Emma unsure if she should groan or whimper.

Regina stops the kissing to deftly get rid of Emma’s belt and the blonde can’t really tell if it was out ofdesire to see her naked or if the buckle was hurting her where Emma’s body was pressed against hers.

Emma is a lot less disciplined, or a lot more impatient, and soon her hands are traveling all over Regina’s body. She lets go of the leg to open the buttons of the brunette’s shirt and for a moment she thinks she might cry because Regina’s breasts in that rather devious bra are one of the most glorious visions she’s ever had the privilege of seeing. She figures she should take her time but the loudest part of her just tells her to fuck it and she quickly gets rids of the bra to cup both breasts, hard, marveling at the weight in her hands.

There’s an urgency to what they’re doing and Emma is not surprised when Regina almost magically gets rid of her own pants and starts pushing her towards the bed, their lips still clashing together like they had no other purpose in life. It makes Emma grin into the kiss and when the back of her knees hit the bed, something in her snaps and she disentangles herself from Regina, leaving a considerable space between their bodies.

“No, no. Wait,” she pleads. Regina stares at her, wild-eyed and messy-haired, the apparent rejection putting a scowl on her face. “Let me look at you.”

There’s genuine surprise in Regina’s eyes, like nobody ever wanted or cared to look at her before (and how is that even possible?). Emma is quite certain her own eyes are glowing with something like reverence because this woman… This is the most gorgeous woman Emma has ever bedded.

“God, you’re fucking beautiful.”

“Crass,” Regina replies, but she’s smiling and her hand is already on its way to Emma’s neck. They both fall on the bed, a mess of limbs and wet kisses.

Emma parts Regina’s legs and settles between them. She’s still wearing her jeans which makes her growl with annoyance at having to jump out of bed, but Regina doesn’t seem to mind. She sits up and expertly unbuttons Emma’s pants, pulling them down in a deliberate, teasing motion. Emma is sure she won’t survive tonight when those lips find a resting place against her stomach and, a few seconds later, she feels teeth pulling at her underwear. She closes her eyes, enjoying the sensation, and it’s Regina’s subtle hesitancy that causes her to wonder about Regina’s experience with women. If this is Regina’s first time… Well, people always told her that first impressions are important.

Sliding her boyshorts the rest of the way down in a movement she hopes is somehow both sexy and reassuring, Emma gives the brunette a look that is meant to tell her she’s about to be so thoroughly fucked she’ll have difficulties walking straight. Regina only smirks and falls back down on the bed, her body held up by her elbows in an inviting stance.

Emma takes a moment to thank whoever had brought this goddess upon Earth before removing her own bra and following her lead, hovering above Regina with a playful glint in her eyes. She wants to ask her about the scar on her lip and the birthmark on her shoulder but maybe now is not the time as Regina switches their positions, making Emma fall on her back with an embarrassing yelp. Regina shows her a victorious smile before covering her mouth with her lips again. Being kissed in such a way makes it seem like kissing would be enough but soon Regina presses her thigh against Emma’s core and all conscious thought abandons her.

When she slides her fingers inside Regina’s panties, she finds her hot, oh so hot, and _wet_ , and it takes all of her self-restraint not to ravage her into oblivion. Another Emma, at another time, would have, but now she wants to take it slow, savor every bit of Regina and give her a night she won’t forget.

With her middle finger, she circles Regina’s clit and Regina tears her mouth away from Emma’s to bite her shoulder in a silent plea for more. Emma doesn’t comply. Instead, she gently penetrates her with two fingers and then removes her hand completely.

Regina’s head snaps up, a clear demand in her eyes. Emma smirks before licking her fingers dry, her eyes never leaving Regina’s. She resists the urge to laugh at the way Regina looks like she can’t believe what she’s witnessing and Emma seizes the opportunity to regain the upper hand. Being on top always was more of her thing.

Emma kisses Regina all the way down to her breasts, at which point she takes a nipple in her mouth while skillfully pinching the other hard enough for it to be unclear whether Regina’s cries are derived from pain or from pleasure. Emma’s other hand returns to where Regina wants it the most and their combined breathing becomes heavier, louder. Emma grows more and more aroused with Regina’s nails firmly holding on to her ass, pulling her closer, and she thinks she might come undone with the way the brunette is biting and breathing into her ear.

She slithers two fingers inside Regina’s waiting entrance and uses her thumb to keep stimulating the clitoris, her rhythm and pressure changing in an effort to understand what makes Regina squirm. A few minutes of exploration and it’s clear Regina prefers her thumb to draw lines instead of circles, but in the end it’s Emma’s fingers pressing the sensitive spot inside at the same time that her thumb presses her clit just a little more vehemently that sends her toppling over the edge.

It’s a beautiful sight, one that makes Emma feel pure _joy_ and fills her chest with pride. Regina’s body arches, her cunt craving for Emma’s touch, and she grabs the sheets so hard the blonde is afraid she might rip them. Some seconds tick by, Regina’s lips parted and soundless, until she finally comes with a moan, her torso landing on the bed with a soft thud. She’s panting, her arms are limp and Emma can’t help the smugness of having elicited such a reaction.

Emma moves to Regina’s side and decides that she’s done with Regina’s panties. She briefly contemplates ripping them apart but opts instead to simply slide them off, smirking a little at Regina’s feeble effort to help. Kissing her jaw, sucking her earlobe, Emma keeps on slowly sliding her fingers in and out of Regina’s pussy until she feels her body responding to her ministrations again.

Regina whimpers, still spent, and Emma is vaguely aware that _that_ sound is probably one she doesn’t produce often. The thought vanishes when Regina’s lips capture hers and this time they don’t stop kissing until Regina comes again, biting hard on Emma’s bottom lip, her wetness all over Emma’s hand.

Emma tastes the blood in her mouth and pulls away from the kiss. Regina’s eyes are still closed and there’s a hint of a smile on her lips. When her eyelids flutter open, brown meets green and Emma shudders at the intensity she perceives there.

“Miss Swan…” Regina drawls, sitting up. “I believe you’ve had enough fun for one night.”

“I beg to differ, my lady,” Emma counters, straddling Regina’s lap with all the energy of someone whose body hasn’t been assaulted by two orgasms in a row.

Regina surprises her by enveloping her right nipple with her mouth, alternating between sucking and nibbling.

“ _Fuck_ , Regina…”

Emma likes watching. She really does and looking down at those perfect, supple lips busy with her breasts, at the locks of dark hair covering half of Regina’s face, at long lashes caressing her skin… It’s so much more than Emma had hoped for her night. She gasps, feeling Regina’s palm covering her center, and rolls her hips to push for more contact.

“ _Harder_ ,” Emma growls, one of her hands lost in the brunette’s hair, the other scratching random patterns on her back. She huffs, a finger sliding inside her, but it’s not enough. “More.”

Regina bites her nipple, clearly unimpressed with the instructions and adds two fingers, knuckle-deep. Emma thanks her by pulling her hair and kissing her ravenously, riding Regina’s hand at a furious speed.

_Fuck. Fuck. Fuck._

She knows her body and knows the effect alcohol has on her ability to orgasm. She wishes she could just push Regina back to the sheets and sit on her face but Emma is nothing if not considerate and so she does the next best thing.

“I need to taste you,” she half-begs, half-demands in between shallow breaths.

“ _What?_ ” Regina sounds shocked, or maybe she’s just mad because her fingers curl briskly inside Emma and her palm presses the blonde’s clit so as to actually _hurt_.

“I need to taste you,” Emma whispers pleadingly, her hips still thrusting into Regina’s hand. “Please let me taste you.”

Regina doesn’t reply, doesn’t stop and Emma is so close to her climax it is physically painful not to get _there_. She removes Regina’s hand gently and entwines their fingers together, the slickness she feels there making her core clench with urgent need.

“Lie down.”

“And if I don’t want to?” There’s no real resistance in her voice. She’s already falling, her hair spread on the pillow.

“All you have to do is say no.”

Emma lies on her stomach, grips Regina’s thighs and dives nose first in her wet pussy. The taste makes her moan instinctively. Regina tastes _good_ ; not too salty, a touch of sour, not too sweet. Regina tastes so fucking great it could easily become her favorite meal. And it’s not only that Regina tastes good, Regina is obviously annoyed by not making Emma come – Regina is pissed, in fact, and clutches Emma’s hair with brute force, pushing her cunt against her face. Emma appreciates the roughness, the way hips rock steadily into her waiting lips. She enjoys it so much that all it takes is thirty seconds of her own hand circling her clit for Emma to crash like a wave, her tongue never stopping the strong strokes in and out of Regina’s entrance.

“Are you happy now?” Regina groans, breathless once more, lifting Emma by the hair to stare right into her eyes.

“Very.” With a last caress on her over-sensitive clit, Emma brings her hand to Regina’s core, two fingers sliding in so they can press her G-spot. “Now let’s see how happy I can make _you_.”

*

Emma loses track of time. She sucks on Regina’s clit way longer than either of them would have expected, but she doesn’t seem capable of stopping, not when Regina comes like this; hands seizing sheets, hair, breasts; and not when her sex only has moments to rest before Emma strikes again, softly before her orgasm starts building up and then confidently once Regina is about to reach yet another climax.

They both lose track of time and lose count and lose themselves in each other until Regina can’t possibly handle it anymore. Emma climbs up, leaving a trail of warm kisses all over Regina’s torso, and finally settles on top of her, forehead resting on the spot where neck meets shoulder.

Regina squeezes Emma’s chin between her thumb and her forefinger and forces her to look up. Emma does and for an instant she’s genuinely terrified of the emotion she sees in Regina’s eyes. The brunette seems to sense this and just leans in to place a gentle peck on her lips, so tenderly Emma thinks she might melt.

“Thank you.”

The brunette smiles the tiniest smile and shuts her eyes, still on her blissful high, her left hand forgotten on Emma’s hip.

She’s sound asleep in minutes and Emma swallows the pang of regret coursing through her by tucking the duvet around Regina’s body before she leaves.

*

Emma enters the café in a haze, face flush from speeding all the way there, and looks around wildly. Jane hates it when she’s late. She finally spots her at a table by the window and makes a run for it, embarrassing herself in the process by knocking an old lady’s bag to the floor.

“Janey, I’m so sorry!”

“Why, namaste, didi.” The girl grins, all cheeks and dimples, a twinkle in her eye. “I think I can survive for five minutes more when I haven’t seen you in six months.”

Emma sits heavily on the empty chair and glares at her sister.

“You know I don’t understand it when you start speaking foreign like that,” she whines, taking hold of the steaming mug in front of her. “You ordered for me?”

“It’s Hindi, not _foreign_. A little respect for my origins, please.” Jane winks. “Hot chocolate, whipped cream and cinnamon for you, big sis. Some things never change.”

“God, I missed you!” Emma confesses, a wide smile brightening her face. It’s odd, how she just sat there like she’d seen Jane yesterday, not even sparing her a hug. “Tell me everything.”

“Already bought the apartment. Two bedrooms, kitchen and living room kinda mixed together, very cozy. You’re gonna love it.”

“Perfect!” She then stops for a moment, the frown on her face hidden behind golden curls. “Did Jack come to Boston with you?”

“No, Josh did. He helped me pick the apartment but I took care of the rest myself.” Jane takes a long sip of her drink, eyingher sister carefully. “He’s still in town, actually. Jack asked him to watch over the annual quality assessment for Royals Boston.”

“Family empire is not only about benefits.” Emma snorts and rests her face on her hand lazily. “I’m surprised I didn’t run into him. Then again I didn’t exactly spend a lot of time in the public areas.”

“I didn’t tell him you were there or he’d have gone looking for you. You know Josh.”

“Such a good brother, choosing houses with one sister, leaving the other one to her business,” Emma jokes, with a slurp to her cocoa.“Sorry I wasn’t there for the boring part.”

“Well, since you’re the one moving in with me for my introduction to the big college adventure, it’s safe to say I forgive you.”

Emma laughs and, on an impulse, awkwardly hugs Jane over the table.

“You’re staying at the apartment already, right? Let’s invite Josh over and have a movie night, just the three of us like old times.”

“Oh my,” Jane says, voice dripping with affectionate sarcasm. “Emma Swan proposing a plan indoors? The gods of sex must’ve been blessed with a huge offering last night.”

“Indeed.”

“Who was it?” She leans forward, conspiringly. “He? She? Neither?”

“It was a woman this time. No,” Emma exhales, trying to find a more suitable term, “let me rephrase that: it was a fucking goddess this time.”

“That good?” Jane asks, after a congratulatory fist-bump that leaves them giggling like teenagers sharing a secret language.

“If I tell you I’ve had better but I don’t think I’ve ever enjoyed a random hook-up this much, would it make sense to you?”

Jane raises a quizzical brow. “You mean she’s hot but bad in the sack?”

“Oh, no no, not like that! I just don’t think she’s very versed in the world of ladies.” Emma shrugs and finishes her drink. “I also didn’t give her much of a shot, to be honest.”

“You never do, Emma,” Jane points out, and there’s more kindness than criticism in the inflection of her voice.

“Yeah, I know.” She sighs. “I’d definitely give Regina another shot though.”

“Regina, huh?”Jane leans back on her chair and crosses her arms, her expression the definition of all-knowing. Emma wants to punch it out of her face but Jane’s the person she likes the most in the world so she settles for covering the mocking look thrown her way with an open palm. “We have a name!”

“Yes, we do,” Emma grunts, self-consciously. “Now can we go get my stuff and officially move in to the new place? Is it furnished? Or do we need to go shopping?” She stands up and holds out a hand. She doesn’t know exactly where it comes from, but she’s feeling quite content, excited even. “And tell me Josh isn’t busy today, I’d love to see him!”


	2. I could possibly be fading (or have something more to gain)

**_September 23 rd, 2008_ **

Regina Mills is nervous and this single sensation, more than anything else, is what has her gripping the steering wheel of her Mercedes with unnecessary force. She is used to feeling anger, anger still is what anchors and propels her. She is used to feeling frustration, she has experienced emptiness and even depression. What is uncommon in her long adult life is this crippling anxiety that has her driving recklessly, punching the buttons of the radio in the vain hope that a good song will rescue her from her despair. But a good song never comes, for life has never been easy or kind to Regina Mills, no matter how hard she fights back.

She pulls over when she spots a gas station, not because her car lacks fuel, but because there is only so much Regina can handle before she _needs_ to find a solution. She takes her phone from her purse and presses the number 3 on her speed-dial.

There’s a ring and a click before a hesitant voice answers, _“Regina?”_

She cringes at the surprised tone and wonders, not for the first time, what she has done with her life, with _herself_ , that has everybody so certain of her complete and total independence to the point of self-proclaimed solitude.

“Kathryn,” she replies, trying to sound firmer than she feels.

The reaction is immediate. _“Henry is fine, he’s in school already.”_

“I know. I trust you.” She does and it’s humorous to her, how she’s grown to trust this woman who hadn’t been much more than a spoiled little princess in love with a knight in a different time. “That’s not why I’m calling.”

_“Oh?”_

“I…” She breathes in deeply, attempting to rationalize that what she is about to do is _not_ weakness. “I’m driving back to Storybrooke, I should arrive in time to pick Henry up from school. Would you… would you like to have dinner with us?” She scolds herself for how unsure, how pathetic she sounds, grasping at the straws of the only friendship the curse had fabricated to keep her company.

 _“I would love to,”_ Kathryn says, a clear smile in her voice, and Regina curses the relief flowing through her, breaking her tension; feels ridiculous for it. _“At Granny’s?”_

“No, dear, that’s preposterous.” The easy jab at what she considers a less than commendable establishment comforts her, makes her feel more like herself. “At my house. Six?”

_“I’ll bring the wine.”_

“I hope you enjoy French cuisine.”

Regina hangs up, no goodbyes exchanged, and leans back against the car seat. She closes her eyes and inhales, exhales, the mechanic repetition of the motion managing to steady her heart beat. When the world doesn’t feel like it’s spinning at impossible velocity, she rummages through her purse to find an MP3 device connected to a tape. She winces, thinking of the endless possibilities offered by the iPod she’s left at home, but her Mercedes is so old it doesn’t even have a CD drive and Apple was never known for being accommodating. She’s certain there’s a playlist of “heavy” music in there somewhere and so Regina restarts the car with Rage Against the Machine blasting on the stereo a little louder than she’d normally approve of. She will die before admitting exactly _how_ eclectic and varied her music tastes are as music is indeed one of the greatest pleasures she’s found in this realm devoid of magic. Listening to rock and metal has helped her control her anger and she’s survived many sleepless nights to the sound of songs she can only describe as tear inducers. There’s no other explanation for the rivers she’s cried over Tori Amos’s _Winter_. That the song reminds her of her father is a detail she believes is better left untouched.

Yes, Regina Mills thinks, there is a therapeutic comfort to be found in music.

The landscapes of Maine are cold and not overly pleasant in a way that is soothing to Regina. The curse hasn’t brought her the happy ending she was seeking when she first cast it, but the years have dragged along a feeling that Regina calls resignation on her worst days and contentment on her best. Henry alone has the power to fill the void in her heart almost to the point of overflowing it and she believes, with all the broken and ripped pieces that define her, that everything was worth it just so she can now call him _hers_.

The gear shift is a solid presence in her hand and she feels grateful for how it’s grounding her and keeping her focused on the ride. She will never understand automatic gears for she never was one to understand what is simple – or what she not-so-secretly considers slothful.

There are many things Regina enjoys about this new realm. Sometimes she finds herself musing if happy endings really are unattainable in a place where there are so many books to read and so many opinions to be freely spoken. She’s still mesmerized at the idea of the internet and her closet has benefitted immensely from the modern magic that is online shopping. In the beginning, she remembers breaking vases and dishes and mirrors in raging fits because how can happiness be possibly gone when life is so much easier? When everyone in Storybrooke has access to food and shelter and they’re so much better and more readily available than they ever were in the Enchanted Forest? But as the months passed by, she realized that everything that was vibrating and pulsating in the Enchanted Forest was now enveloped in a crushing blanket of _nothing_ and all that there was to feel in their new home was emptiness – and occasionally misery.

She’s thankful for Henry and how his arrival seemed to somehow unlock time. Regina doesn’t quite comprehend the process of how it came to be, but what was once an endless repetition of the same day now looks like a frozen period of _something_ , with new memories being created every day alongside the added bliss of not aging. She worries that changing class and friends every year will have a negative impact on her son and, in her best days, she feels guilty for it. In her worst days, she tells herself she’s as cursed as Snow White and her prince so there’s nothing she can do about it.

Regina ponders if her nature is selfish, if she’s so wrapped up in her quest for vengeance that she’s no longer able to see other options and opportunities. She wonders if there is a way out of a darkened heart and remembers her darkest day in Storybrooke, a few days before she decided to adopt Henry. She recalls looking in the mirror, hair disheveled and mascara smudged, and feeling ashamed that _hers_ was the face of Evil. She’d broken the mirror then and never again allowed herself to forget that Regina Mills may be many things but evil is not one of them.

Storybrooke’s 25th birthday is only a month away and Regina truly doesn’t know if she should rejoice in her victory or feel ecstatic that the prophesized Savior is finally, _finally_ so close to arriving.

*

“Henry, come and help me make dinner.”

“Mom…” His response is more of a drawl, the tone is whiny, and feet stomp heavily into the kitchen. Regina tries to admonish him but she can’t, not when the footsteps end in a tight hug, skinny arms holding her by the waist.

“What’s for dinner?”

“ _Tartiflette_.”

 “What is that?” He scrunches his nose adorably and Regina allows the moment to flutter inside her chest.

“It’s a French dish.”

“What is French?”

She smiles and stops peeling the potatoes, crouching to be at eye level with her son. “Do you know what the name of the country where we live is?”

“United States of America!” Henry states, proudly.

“That’s right,” she replies, poking his still protuberant child belly softly. “We are Americans. French is what we call the people and things from France, a different country from ours.”

“Where is France?”

“In Europe.” She gets up and returns to the preparation of their meal. “Remember the replica of the world that I have in my office? The globe?” She waits for him to nod before continuing, “It’s on my desk. Go get it and I will show you.”

She’s not expecting him to be quick but she shouldn’t be surprised. Henry is nothing if not curious.

“Show me, mom, show me.” It sounds dangerously close to a demand and he practically shoves the globe into her hands. Regina laughs, ever guilty of over-indulging the boy, and places it down on the kitchen table. She motions for Henry to sit and he complies eagerly.

“See this big portion of land here? That’s America.”

“That’s our country? It’s so big!” His eyes are wide open, an expression of wonder on his face that makes Regina beam.

“No, dear. The United States is a country in America. America is a continent.” She circles the U.S. with her hand. “Europe is another continent, much smaller. And this,“ she adds, her pointer finger resting next to the word, “is France, a country in Europe.”

“So continents are groups of countries?”

“Exactly. Very good, Henry.” Regina cups his chin and kisses the top of his head. “Now let me make dinner or we won’t have anything to eat when Kathryn arrives.”

“But I want to learn more about the continents!”

“Why don’t we play a game?” she asks, the art of entertaining her child coming so easily to her. She thinks she should feel proud for her achievement but all that comes is an overwhelming feeling of _love_. “You try to read the names of the countries and I try to guess what continent they are on.”

“Okay,” the boy agrees excitedly, and Regina knows she’ll have dinner ready on time. “Brazil.”

*

The silence in the room is an odd mixture of awkward and relaxed now that Henry has nothing more to say and is happily munching on his fruit salad. It’s not the first time Kathryn is at their house but it’s the first time she’s there for a meal, sharing the intimacy of their space and habits.

“May I go play now, mom? I ate everything.” He pushes the plate in her direction and smiles a toothy grin, uncaring of the empty spaces left by three of his recently gone baby teeth.

“What’s the magic word?”

“May I go play now, please?”

“Yes, you may.” She dabs the corner of her lips with a napkin. “Take your things to the kitchen, Henry.”

He does as he’s told and Regina knows he’s barely controlling the urge to run upstairs to his room, but she refrains from commenting on it.

“You raised him so well, Regina,” Kathryn remarks, impressed. “He’s a wonderful child.”

“Considering I have to leave him with you at least two days per month, the minimum I could do is make your job easier,” Regina counters, standing up. Kathryn has finished her meal and they are comfortable enough with each other not to stay eternally at the dinner table making small talk. “Let’s go to the kitchen, I’ll make us coffee. Or would you rather have something stronger?” She lifts a suggestive eyebrow.

“Coffee is fine, thank you.” The blonde piles all the remaining tableware effortlessly and follows Regina into the kitchen. One could think her Enchanted Forest persona had worked at a tavern.

Out of all the rooms in her house, a manor too large for two people, the kitchen is Regina’s favorite. She turns on the radio and the women start doing the dishes to the rhythm of voiceless jazz. It’s pleasant and companionable and if this is what friendship feels like, Regina might start making room for it in her life.

Once they are done, Kathryn sits down, watching Regina place the coffee beans in her French press. Regina is a woman of precision. Everything has a time and a place; there are procedures for the tiniest of tasks. She thrives in order and needs it to feel in control, sometimes even to feel functional.

“I tried not to make it too strong as I imagine we’d both like to have a good night sleep.” She sits across from her _friend_ and places the sugar in the space between them, smiling at how Kathryn’s hands, half-hidden by her always-too-long sleeves, curl around the mug.

Kathryn closes her eyes and breathes in slowly, her lips quirking up in obvious delight. “This is perfect, Regina. Thank you.”

“I only have brown sugar, one cube might not be enough for you,” she warns, her mouth halfway to the rim of her mug.

The blonde tries her coffee and adds another two cubes before she’s satisfied. “So…” she starts, staring intently at Regina. “Want to tell me what happened in Boston?”

“Excuse me?” It’s a lucky occurrence that Regina’s mug is resting safely on the surface of the table, the only sign of her distress at the question being the tremor in her voice.

“Come on, we’ve known each other for how long?” Kathryn looks at the ceiling, trying to come up with mental calculations that Regina knows have no solution. She quits with a huff, “We’ve been friends for a really long time and I’ve been Henry’s baby-sitter ever since you got him. You’ve been to my house a couple of times and we’ve hung out together at Granny’s or at that cute restaurant by the docks every now and then. Today was the first time you called me, well, _unexpectedly_.”

Regina feels a pang in her chest and it’s so tiresome, how there’s so much regret in everything around her, how there’s remorse to burden her even now.

“I am so happy to be here, Regina,” Kathryn continues, reaching out and holding her hand, a kind expression on her face. “We are friends. It’s okay to call me when you need me.”

The brunette is dumbstruck. She’s never felt that something about her curse was real before. It’s been her for so long and then just her and Henry, but here is Kathryn and she’s been paying attention. She cares.

“I… Thank you.” Regina swallows and it strikes her in that moment that this is the second time in less than 24 hours that she’s been so sincere in her gratitude.

“Did your meeting go wrong?” Kathryn asks, returning her hand to her burning coffee. Regina appreciates the gesture for she’s not one to take comfort from physical affection, not anymore. “Is Storybrooke not finally gonna get our first batch of iPhones?”

“No, dear, nothing like that,” she sniggers, waving a hand at the absurdity of the thought. “You know I always aim for total efficiency. It was something that happened afterwards.” The swirling of the warm smoke leaving her mug draws her attention in and she allows a reflective silence to settle around them.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Kathryn prods, gently.

“I… wouldn’t know where to start.” She offers a sad smile and it’s clear she’s struggling with herself. “It’s just such an uncommon situation for me. Maybe unique is a more accurate description. I… am having difficulties processing it.” She sighs and whispers almost inaudibly, “It makes me feel off-balance.”

“Okay, I think I will need some more information…”

“I slept with a woman in Boston.”

The silence between them grows long and awkward and Regina is for once at a loss for words and uncertain as to how to proceed.

 “You _what?_ ”

“Mr. Richards was especially contrary in the meeting yesterday. I was tired and annoyed, so I decided to go to the hotel bar for a drink before calling it a night,” Regina is quick to clarify, a defensive stance tensing all her muscles. “I didn’t exactly plan on it.”

“No, no, Regina, I’m sorry.” Kathryn wiggles her head, shaking herself out of her trance. “I’m just surprised, is all. I thought… I thought you were with Graham?”

“Graham and I are not serious.” She harrumphs, the Sheriff forgotten until this moment. “We have needs, we help each other addressing them.”

“So you’re… _gay?_ ” The blonde looks like a fish out of water and if Regina hadn’t been so thoroughly out of her element herself, she might have found it amusing. “Bisexual? Something… sexual?”

“No. I don’t know. No. _Stop._ It’s not _that_.”

This, Regina thinks, might just be the worst idea she’s ever had.

Kathryn takes a deep breath and centers herself. “Okay, let’s focus here. Tell me the facts and we’ll work from there.”

“My meeting went well, but getting the deal I wanted was harder than usual. It took more time and effort than I was expecting to give.”

“So you decided to go to the hotel bar to relax.”

“Yes. I had never stayed in that hotel and the bar was incredibly tasteful, with a very inviting atmosphere and good music playing. I figured it wouldn’t hurt to stay a while longer to take my mind fully off that irritatingly condescending…” She cuts herself off with a roll of her eyes. Her meeting is not the reason she’s in her kitchen with Kathryn. “I was just sitting by myself at the counter, I had no intention of socializing. I think some men tried to call my attention but I couldn’t be bothered.” She shrugs, self-consciously.

“What did she do differently, then?”

“She… Well, she sat next to me – not even in a gracious manner, I might add – and _smiled_.” Regina covers her eyes and wills the embarrassment of this situation to float away. “I was sitting, enjoying my drink and my own company after a long day, and this idiot comes by, all levity and casualness, and she just _smiles_.”

“I take it she was hot?”

Regina startles. She hadn’t even considered that yet. “Very much so. Yes.”

“So what, she has a megawatt smile and that’s enough for you to fall for her act? Is that why you’re so worked up over this?”

“No, and yes. Wait,” the brunette puffs, exasperated, “let me finish. I indulged her because she was lovely and apparently I needed that after the day I had. I did _not_ think she had other intentions, it didn’t even cross my mind.”

Kathryn laughs, “Oh my, I’m loving this. Please go on.”

“We were talking until the bar closed and when we were leaving, she… She pulled me to her and kissed me. That’s when I knew.”

“Knew what? Her intentions? The kiss was that good?”

“To be quite honest, as far as these things go, it was a poor example of a kiss. I was so shocked I didn’t even reciprocate.” She catches herself. “Or stop her.”

“How did a bad kiss turn into ‘I slept with a woman’?” Kathryn looks genuinely curious.

“I don’t…” Regina gulps and wonders if uncertainty looks as unattractive on her as it does on others. “I don’t know. I can’t say I was completely sober, but I was definitely conscious of everything that was happening.”

“You liked her then.” At Regina’s outraged expression, she hastily adds, “Just a little, maybe. Did she ask politely?”

“She proposed the idea politely, yes. You could say that.”

“And you accepted the proposition because…?”

Regina wants to say that it’s been so long since people willingly cared for her company, even longer since somebody made her feel light and carefree. Since somebody made her feel _wanted_. But she hadn’t known all that before she’d gone on a whim and followed Miss Swan to the elevator. She searches for the other truth, the one that’s not quite so personal. “It felt so simple to talk to her. Fun, even.”

Kathryn’s eyebrows shot up. “Fun? You were having fun just talking to this woman? I need to meet her.”

They both chuckle, coffees finished and mugs abandoned.

“I believe the alcohol uninhibited me for I felt as if maybe, just for once, it wouldn’t be so bad to see where things could go.”

“Thus, the sex.”

“Thus, the sex,” Regina confirms, with a smirk.

“And?”

“And what?”

“You’re not going to give me the details?”

“I don’t kiss and tell, dear,” Regina states, all mystery and smugness.

“Oh no, no, no. You don’t get to drop this bomb on me without sharing the details,” Kathryn declares, leaning forward over the table. “Regina...”

“It went on for a few hours, I lost track of time. She’s…” Regina looks down and doesn’t recognize her own shyness. That belonged to another time, another version of her. “She’s a very skilled lover.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning exactly that.” Regina’s eyes darken and she’s suddenly aware that she doesn’t do _this_. She doesn’t meet with girlfriends to talk about her sex life or her romantic life – or lack thereof. She doesn’t share feelings and personal experiences. She’s certainly not about to share how she so uncharacteristically allowed another human being full control over her body – she’s even less disposed to confess that the reason why she’s remotely emotional about the events of the previous night is precisely _that_. Regina Mills does not give people the control of situations. Much less people who leave without so much as a word of goodbye. “It’s getting late.”

Kathryn opens her mouth as though she might complain but she is an intelligent woman who knows her place and understands when she’s being dismissed. “Look at that,” she says, the effort she puts to sound cheerful not enough to mask her frustrated sigh. “Time flew by.”

“Indeed it did,” Regina agrees, getting up, her palms fixing invisible wrinkles on her clothes. “I need to put Henry to bed; tomorrow is a school day.”

They walk to the door, the comfortable silence and easy banter now gone. The door creaks open as Regina presses the handle and Kathryn cringes, the cold of fall in Maine a perfect fit to the rushed ending of their evening. She turns and is about to speak, but Regina cuts her off, “Thank you for coming, dear.”

Kathryn nods, a small smile playing on her lips, and grasps her friend by the elbow with a gentle squeeze, “Thank you so much for having me, Regina. I had a great time.” Regina freezes when Kathryn hugs her and it’s as ungainly and unreciprocated as a hug can be, but the blonde doesn’t seem to mind. “If you need anything, you know you can count on me, right?”

Regina doesn’t deserve it, but she knows, “Yes.”

“Good,” Kathryn replies, with a smile so warm Regina’s heart feels heavy inside her chest. “See you tomorrow.”

Friendship, like so many things in her life, seems to be a blessing Regina is not ready for.

 

* * *

 

**_October 22 nd, 2008_ **

Ineptitude is something Regina doesn’t take kindly to and she’s lost count of how many times she’s rolled her eyes in this meeting. _Stork Ltd._ has one job; it’s to guarantee that all of Storybrooke’s supermarkets and stores always get what they need delivered to the town line three times a week. She’s never been happier about her decision to pass a decree that orders the closure of stores on Sundays or she might have had to deal with these ineffectual excuses for blue-collar workers more often than she can stomach. She misses the good old days of squeezing hearts and snapping necks. Things were simpler then.

“If you’ll excuse me, I have better places to be,” Regina interrupts, her watch informing her it’s already past six. “New schedule is Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays at 5.30a.m sharp. I expect you to follow this basic instruction and you have November to prove to me that you can. If Willy Oh tells me that you’re even five minutes late, I will be looking for a new delivery company.” She chooses that moment to examine her purple-painted nails and her derision is intentional. Maybe the world outside Storybrooke is filled with incompetents, but she is pleased about the spark of genius that had allowed her to turn Winnie the Pooh and his group of mentally challenged friends into the town’s delivery and postal service offices. They blindly follow rules and therefore spend every day close to the town line without ever feeling tempted to cross it.

The perfect execution and performance of the curse is both bliss and burden.

“Who would your preferred drivers be, Madam Mayor?” Ms. Morrison, the woman with the low-key voice that Regina has to deal with on the phone almost weekly, intervenes before the bald man at the top of the table begins his protest.

“I’m very satisfied with Joey Rose, I wish to keep him. For the unforeseen deliveries, I want a list of appropriate candidates and their updated CVs by tomorrow afternoon.” She stands up and her action is imitated by everyone in the room. “Have a good evening, ladies and gentlemen.”

Regina has to shake the hands of the five people present. Business in this realm is time-consuming and polite, two things she’d gladly dispense for the sake of practicality. She would also rather avoid the unnecessary touching which is why she gives use to the bottle of hand sanitizer she keeps in her purse as soon as she’s out of the building.

She’s going to need a drink.

*

Regina can’t believe her eyes when she walks into the hotel bar. There she is, standing in a corner, a ridiculous beanie still on her head, fingertips gesticulating out of those incredibly juvenile gloves that don’t even protect the whole hand. She’s smiling and talking to somebody and Regina would’ve called it endearing if that wasn’t a word she reserved only for her son. How dare Emma Swan stand there and make her feel things only her son had the right to bring about in her?

For a foolish moment, she considers walking there and greeting the blonde but she quickly gathers herself. It’s not even the same hotel, what are the odds of crossing paths with Miss Swan again? Next to none. And yet, here they are. Shaking her head in disbelief, she crosses the bar and sits on a stool at the counter. The bartender approaches her, his entire demeanor the description of shameless flirt, and Regina is so annoyed by the show he’s putting on that she almost gets up and leaves. Picturing his gruesome death at the hands of soldiers long lost, she orders a Baileys through gritted teeth and with a glare that makes the young man gulp, message clear and understood.

Regina regrets her choice of beverage as soon as the sickly-sweet texture surrounds her tongue. She loves Baileys but she’s in need of something stronger if she is to be able to relax in a place where Emma Swan also happens to be present. Or maybe all she needs is to finish her drink and go upstairs. The bar at Four Seasons isn’t nearly as pleasant as Royals’ had been.

She is fond of the way the latte-colored liquid half-hides the transparency of the ice and decides to make it swirl in soft, steady motions, taking pleasure in the way the ice clinks against the glass. Ice is another not-quite-so-modern convenience she greatly enjoys in this cursed realm. As is the variety of food and drinks available.

“Regina?”

She turns, a frown on her forehead, a shiver down her spine, and is faced with a hopeful smile she thought she would never see again. She considers feigning ignorance, wonders for half an instant if asking for her name would be a low enough blow. “I’m surprised you remember my name,” is what she settles for, taking a sip of her Baileys without breaking eye contact.

“I remember a lot of things about that night,” Emma Swan says, with more fondness than innuendo, and Regina is stricken, eyes flashing dangerously.

“Well,” she drawls, raising her glass in a mock toast, “that makes one of us.”

The irritatingly charming blonde laughs at that and sits next to her, with all the audacity in the world. “I can’t believe you’re here. I thought I’d never see you again.”

“Yes,” Regina agrees, not without bite. “One would assume that after a drunken one-night stand with no contact details shared.”

“A stupid mistake on my part,” Emma Swan replies, without missing a beat.

Regina sighs because Emma is smiling and her eyes are shining bright and there is something about the way this woman looks at her that makes Regina travel back to times when there was happiness in her dreams. She is not that girl anymore. “What are you doing here, Miss Swan?”

“Hotels are my favorite places in the world.”

“Is that so?” Regina asks, her eyebrow lifting in silent mockery. She is convinced there are suspicious assumptions to be made about someone who likes hotels so much.

“And since it’s my birthday, I decided to come here to celebrate,” she explains, in that excited tone that should only be tolerated in children. It occurs to Regina then, how awfully young she must be.

“How old are you?”

“Just turned 25.”

Regina hides her eyes behind her palm. Of all the things that could have gone wrong with her life, having sex with a woman 30 years her junior had certainly never even been a remote possibility. “Happy birthday, Miss Swan,” she forces herself to pronounce after a deep breath, her eyes scanning the bar in search of the people she’d seen with the blonde when she’d first entered. She spots a black-haired girl and a young man she couldn’t tell if he was Jewish or Japanese, both staring intently at them. “Shouldn’t you be with your friends?”

Emma opens her mouth, as if to correct her, but seems to think better of it. “Can I be honest?”

“Can I answer that question with a ‘no’?”

“No,” Emma chuckles, all dimples and twinkling eyes, and it’s so _unfair_. “I’d much rather spend my birthday with you.” She stops grinning but her expression is eager as though this ridiculous attempt at wooing is exceptionally important. “If that’s alright.”

“I don’t know who you think I am.” Regina clutches her glass, a silent scream inside her shutting down all the emotions clawing out of her chest. “You have _no_ idea who I am. That night shouldn’t have happened.”

“No point in crying over spilled milk,” Emma counters with a smirk and a dismissive wave of her hand. “Here’s the thing: you and I? We never got around to talking that much. I don’t know anything about you.” She places her hand on Regina’s arm and it takes all of Regina’s willpower not to flinch. Emma feels it and an awkward hand finds a pocket. “But I would really like to. Get to know you, that is.”

Regina snickers cruelly. There is nothing to know, only voids to drown in. “I believe my life can only offer dull tales to one so prone to adventures such as yourself.”

“I beg to differ,” Emma Swan argues, smiling again, as if there’s absolutely nothing complicated about dealing with Regina. “Come on, let’s sit at a table. I’ll buy you a drink. That Baileys is way too soft to handle the venom spilling out of you.”

*

Regina can’t believe she’s being kissed by Emma Swan again. This was not supposed to happen. She can’t even use alcohol as an excuse this time for the only two drinks she’d had came after a fulfilling and satisfactory meal.

She is so angry she wants to hit the woman until she turns blue and so she does, her fists knocking at Emma’s chest, her teeth biting her lips. Emma grabs her wrists and Regina hates that she’s so strong, so _solid_.

“Hey, hey,” Emma whispers, the black ink of her lustful pupils contrasting with the gentleness of her tone. “Do you want to stop? It’s okay. We don’t have to do this.”

“Yes,” Regina hisses, pulling off Emma’s tank top and throwing it to the floor, “we do.”

She is furious at herself for falling for Emma’s allure again. She is blind with rage for being the one who kissed first. _She_ is the only reason Emma Swan is presently half-naked in her room and she can’t think of anything or anyone she despises more right this moment. She moves in for another kiss and Emma wraps her arms around her. She’s not touching, she’s not exploring, she’s just _holding_ Regina.

Regina doesn’t like being held, and as the gesture only infuriates her more, she finds Emma’s nipples and pinches them. Hard. Emma groans in response and digs her nails into Regina’s still skirt-covered butt.

“So this is how you wanna play, huh?” Emma asks, fingers now clumsily tending to the buttons of Regina’s shirt.

“Clothes off,” Regina orders, still manic, and more aroused by the second.

“After you, lady,” Emma replies, and Regina’s shirt is off and her pencil skirt is pulled up to her waist before she can even gasp. Emma switches positions then and pins Regina against the wall, pulling both her legs up so Regina’s weight is supported by her hips.

Regina struggles her way out of Emma’s grasp and removes her skirt with a glare in Emma’s direction. Sex is not a good enough motive for her clothes to be destroyed. Emma smirks, invades her personal space and sucks the spot where her neck meets her shoulder. “You are a piece of work, Regina, you know that?”

Regina knows and right now there’s nothing she desires more than for Emma to bend to her will. “Clothes off, Miss Swan.” She tugs at blonde hair with a fist, forcing Emma to face her. “Don’t make me repeat it again.”

Emma looks at her with a puzzled expression and it seems she’s trying to assess the situation before she finally decides to obey Regina’s command, a cocky edge on her stance as she puts some distance between them so she can undress freely. “Anything else, your majesty?”

Regina shudders at the reminder of who she is, here in this hotel room where all she wants is to flee from the life she’s built for herself. It takes a moment for her to recover and by then Emma has somehow realized that being antagonistic is a hindrance instead of a contribution. “I want you to finish undressing me with your eyes closed.”

“Why?”

“Because you like to watch.” Emma snorts at that and closes her eyes, moving carefully towards Regina. There’s frailty in darkness when one is used to light and Regina takes deep pleasure in the way Emma Swan’s face is contorted with uncertainty until she’s touching Regina again. The brunette thinks she even hears a sigh of relief and her lips curl up in the appreciation of a battle only she is aware she’s won.

Emma disposes of her clothes slowly and teasingly, butterfly kisses leaving a trail of goosebumps where fabric was covering skin mere seconds ago. The sensation is foreign to Regina, but not unwelcome, and that frightens her into taking a step back. Emma whimpers, her eyes now open and a pout on her lips.

The nerve of the woman, Regina muses as she pushes Emma to the bed and crawls on top of her. Holding her weight with her left hand next to Emma’s head, the fingers of her right hand find the wet slickness already waiting for her. “Look at me.”

Emma does, nibbling at her bottom lip, her expression so provocative Regina needs to make use of all of her self-control not to kiss it into submission. She retaliates by curling her fingers inside the blonde without warning, her thumb pressing a swollen clit. Emma moans, her body rising to meet Regina’s.

“Fuck, Regina, I need you so much closer…” she begs and it’s the intimacy of the pleading that makes Regina comply, settling between Emma’s legs and busying her tongue with Emma’s earlobe. She blows hot air into her neck and murmurs dirty nothings, satisfied with how Emma buries her nails on her back at each new sentence.

Emma Swan smells of coconut and Nivea cream and it’s impossibly distracting, the way Regina is disappearing, absorbed and surrounded by the scents and sounds of this _girl_. She feels the body beneath her building up, the orgasm so close, and she allows herself a few more precious moments of leaving Emma on the edge before removing her hand abruptly and moving up the bed until her knees are on both sides of Emma’s face.

Flustered, Emma doesn’t seem to understand what is happening for a few seconds and when she does, she groans and her first instinct is to take the matter into her own hands.

“No,” Regina tells her, spreading her legs a bit further and taking hold of the headboard. “You were very happy with just this the other time.” She rolls her hips seductively and shivers when her folds make contact with Emma’s skin. “Now that’s all you’re getting for your birthday.”

Emma bites the inside of her thigh with enough force to leave a mark, but doesn’t object.

*

It’s vexing for Regina that Emma is so much better at this. She’s a perfectionist and nothing below excellent is deemed acceptable. It shouldn’t be hard to please a woman but Emma has quirks and odd preferences and a very short optimum period to reach orgasm. It would drive Regina to insanity if she hadn’t decided that today she’s the one setting the rules and it really isn’t her problem if Emma is frustrated and horny by the time she leaves.

The clock ticks by hours they feel on the sweat glistening their skin and on the knots tangling their hair. Their make-up is almost gone and what began as frantic touching is now a drowsy mess of limbs and sloppy kisses. They laugh and bite and curse, their voices spiraling together in a vacuum of meaningless words.

Having sex with Emma Swan is simple and lighthearted and, when Regina’s eyes become heavy with sleep, Emma’s hand greedily holding on to her core – and she has no right to such arrogant demonstration of possession –, Regina’s last thought is that this might just be one of those rare best days.

*

Regina opens her eyes slowly, a feeling of dread settling inside her chest. The pristinely white ceiling offers little comfort. How had she let herself be dragged into this situation again? Abandoned in a queen-sized bed, cold and rustled after all the fire they had brought upon it?

She gets up and picks up her blazer from the floor, putting it on more from an ingrained need not to feel _exposed_ than from the chill reaching her now that she’s no longer under the covers.

She approaches the table where the TV stands, wanting its sounds to fill the silence, to help her feel not so utterly alone, and that’s when she sees it – a card. It’s a perfectly rectangular, white business card, except there’s nothing printed on it. Instead, there’s a scribbled phone number and a ‘Miss Swan’ in handwriting that is so unapologetically _Emma_ that Regina has to fight against the urge to smile.

She also tries to ignore the way her fingers curl around the card, bringing it to the spot where her heart has forgotten how to beat, but ultimately fails.


	3. come back to bed my darling

**_November 20 th, 2008_ **

Emma walks into the living room to see her sister sitting at the dinner table, piles of books and notes surrounding her laptop. Dropping all her things on the wood surface with a bang, she mocks, “Is there any reason why you have a desk in your room?”

Jane looks up, startled, “Oh, you’re home.” She closes the lid of the computer and smiles, “You know I prefer working around you. How are the kids? I thought you were staying at the orphanage the entire day?”

“I was and then Meghan said they didn’t need me anymore so I left a bit earlier. No point in hanging around when the kids are not in the common areas.” Emma enters the kitchenette, opens the fridge and starts drinking orange juice from the carton. “I don’t mind. I wasn’t really feeling it today.”

“Jack called,” Jane informs and Emma can feel her eyes boring into her. They always do when Jack is mentioned. “He says there’s a fundraiser for the Foundation at Royals Boston next week and we both need to attend.”

“That’s what he wanted? I had a couple of missed calls from him but couldn’t be bothered.” Emma places a pan on the stove and sprinkles it with olive oil before breaking two eggs into it. It’s dark outside and she hasn’t had any food since lunch time.

“Emma, you can’t keep avoiding Jack just because…”

“He’s _not_ dad and I don’t owe him anything.” She hates how defensive she sounds and even more how vulnerable she feels. She hates that yeah, maybe she owes Jack an awful lot but it’s not like she ever asked for it.

Jane raises both her hands in a placating gesture that Emma misses, her eyes never leaving the scrambling motion of the fork. “Fine. But the Foundation is supposed to be your responsibility and Jack’s gonna need your help with the fundraiser.”

“If the fundraiser is next week, I’m sure it’s being organized already. Or is this a last minute thing?” She grabs a few stones of sea salt and throws them into the pan. “I mean, I may not be the most responsible of the Cohen siblings but I’m on top of everything that happens at the Foundation.”

“Cohen, huh? What happened to Swan?”

“You know what I mean, don’t be a dick,” Emma cuts, eggs now in the Disney villains themed bowl that happens to be her sister’s favorite. She slumps down on the couch and pats it, urging Jane to come join her. “Swan is my choice. Cohen sort of… unexpectedly happened.”

“Yeah, yeah, you and your metaphysical separatist theories.” Jane rolls her eyes and grabs a DVD, inserting it in the player before sitting. “It’s a last minute thing. Some sheikh is coming to town next week and Jack is hoping to get his support.”

“Well, who doesn’t want to support children in need?” Emma shrugs and flies the fork towards Jane’s mouth, who takes a bite with a pleased hum. “I’ll call Evelyn later and get the details. She should be able to handle this.”

Jane nods in silent agreement and presses play.

“ _Legally Blonde_?” Emma asks, a frown clouding her expression. “Seriously?”

“Excuse me if I feel like watching a fun movie that passes the Bechdel test,” Jane counters, hitting Emma’s face with a pillow. She gets distracted when she hears the obnoxious parrot sound coming from the table. “You just got a text.”

“Go check it for me, please,” Emma pretty much demands, making use of her big sister voice. “And bring a blanket while you’re at it!”

“You’re such an asshole,” Jane complains, but gets up anyway. “It’s some random number, you don’t have it saved.”

“What does it say?”

“Fifteen Beacon, seven p.m.”

“Oh shit,” Emma curses, mid-chew. “What time is it?”

“Almost six,” Jane replies, hugging a blanket to her chest with one arm while her gaze is still confusedly fixed on the screen of Emma’s phone. “Why? What’s this about?”

“Fuck.” Emma stands up, swallowing the rest of her meal with unhealthy speed before resting the bowl on the coffee table. “I gotta go shower. We’ll watch the movie another time.”

“What?” Jane grunts, and Emma cringes at the frustration she perceives in her demeanor. “What’s happening?”

Emma pauses in front of her sister and gently adjusts her glasses, kisses her forehead. “I think,” she starts, green eyes looking into brown, craving understanding, “I think that might be Regina telling me she’s in Boston again.”

“Regina? That hot older lady you’ve banged twice now? _The_ Regina?”

“There’s no other Regina.”

Jane opens her mouth to retort but Emma is already in the bathroom.

 

* * *

 

**_December 22 nd, 2008_ **

Emma feels a gust of cold on her body and realizes she’s naked. She opens one eye first, then the other, and is stunned for a moment as it dawns on her that she’s not in her room. The sound of clothes swishing and a zipper being pulled up has her turning her head to her right and she spots Regina covering her torso with a red blouse that looks so good on her Emma wants to rip it out and fuck the woman all over again.

She can’t believe she fell asleep after having sex with Regina. She usually stays until the brunette passes out from exhaustion and then sneaks out. Images of the previous night start coming back to her still sleep-addled brain and she’s reminded of why exactly she couldn’t stay awake for once. Regina is getting better at this lady-loving business.

“Where are you going?” Emma asks, propping herself up on her elbow. Her voice is gruff and her hair is all over the place.

Regina turns to face her, a surprised expression on her features. “Not so comfortable with being the one left behind, Miss Swan?” she replies, an eyebrow teasingly lifted. Emma swears those eyebrows have a personality and a language of their own.

“Sorry about that,” she mumbles, falling back onto the mattress with an embarrassed huff. “No morning sex?”

Regina hovers above Emma, her body held by her hands and one knee. When their lips meet, the kiss is a little soft, a little slow, a little _wet_. “As tempting as that proposition is…” Regina says, leaving the bed again. It’s good that she does. It allows Emma to forget how everything about this morning is overwhelmingly intimate. “Christmas is near and my son has a last minute request.”

 _That_ gets Emma’s attention and she sits up abruptly, pulling the sheets to cover her breasts. “Wait, what?” She’s aware that her eyes must be comically wide right now but she can’t help it. This is a game-changer. “You have a kid?” she questions, her tone less firm than she wishes it would be, and then her voice cracks completely as she adds, “Are you… married?”

She shouldn’t be bothered by the idea, but she _is_.

“I have been married,” Regina discloses, something dark and ominous that Emma can’t quite comprehend flashing in her eyes, “but Henry has nothing to do with that. I adopted him almost seven years ago.”

Emma gapes at Regina and her eyes brim with unwanted tears. Regina has a son. A son she so fervently desired that she _adopted_ him. It breaks her heart and heals it at the same time. Feeling small and bare and _meaningless_ , she brings her knees to her chest. For the tiniest of instants, what comes to her mind are memories of the son she chose not to raise, but confessing to that could be the end of everything. “I was adopted when I was 10,” she whispers instead, closing her eyes. “What you did for that boy, I… Thank you. It’s beautiful.”

Regina beams, eyes warm and tender, and she stops looking like the woman with the derisive tones and the dismissive gestures. She looks… _happy,_ and Emma stares humbly at the hand extended to her, fingers splayed and inviting. “Why don’t you get dressed and come help me find an action figure for this Iron Man persona my son keeps babbling about?”

 

* * *

 

**_January 31 st, 2009_ **

Emma walks nervously through the first floor of Taj Boston. Her heart drums so loud inside her chest she suspects that’s the reason everyone who crosses paths with her is giving her odd looks.

When Regina had texted her that morning, Emma had been through a myriad of emotions so vast she had felt like flying and drowning at the same time. Relief, for Christmas had been so fucking long ago she had thought she’d never see Regina again. Ecstasy, because Regina with her smooth skin and her voice that drips of sex had become an addiction, one that Emma was clinging to like a junkie with a freshly bought dose. But fear had been the most dominant emotion and she’d been powerless to deal with its variations – the fear that she had lost Regina, that she could lose her still, raging against the primal instinct of running as far away as possible from something that was beginning to strongly resemble _attachment_.

The text had been a little different than usual. Rather than just stating the hotel name and the time, Regina had left her the room number. Emma hadn’t been so sure if she was at ease with this change in their routine.

Which is why she’s now standing in front of room 108, shuffling on her feet and trying to find the courage to knock.

The door opens before she can do anything and she’s treated with the vision of Regina in a flawless long coat, hugging her forms in all the places where Emma wants to bury her teeth. Looks like their plans will be outdoors this time. “Honestly, Miss Swan, if you wanted to stand outside my door, you should at least have the decency to not be so boisterous.”

Emma breaks into a smile so big she thinks it might tear her skin. Regina’s presence makes all the noise inside her head fade into a soft buzz of warm feelings and cheerful thoughts. “Hi,” she offers, timidly. She wants to kiss her, grab her and spin her. She wants to fuck her, here and now, door open and all.

“Come in,” Regina says, with her husky tone and suggestive eyebrows, and Emma enters the room, leaving her behind to close the door.

It doesn’t matter how many rooms they try, they always look and feel the same, with the huge windows and the large bed with immaculate white covers. They merge into one in Emma’s memories. It’s disheartening for her, how luxury is so similar everywhere yet misery comes in infinite ways.

Sighing, she turns around to face the woman she came to see and her chin nearly has an encounter with the floor.

Regina, fucking real-life goddess Regina, has dropped her coat and is now languidly gazing at her. She’s wearing a burgundy lingerie set that is absolute heaven on her skin and on her breasts. Emma takes a step back because, as if lingerie wasn’t enough, thigh high stockings and garters and _high heels_.

This might just be Emma’s last day on planet earth and oh, what a glorious day it is.

“What is this about?” she blabbers, like the barely eloquent idiot that she is. She tries to keep her knees steady as Regina starts walking to her.

“Close your mouth, dear,” Regina chastises, dangerous promises lurking on her smirk. “It doesn’t suit you.”

Emma swallows and she truly doesn’t know what to do with herself as Regina flushes their bodies together and wraps her arms around Emma’s neck, her fingers instantly locking with blonde curls. “It’s my birthday in a few hours,” she announces, and Emma feels a jolt of gratitude sweeping through her, for this might mean their connection is welcomed and cherished not only by her. “I decided to offer myself a treat.” She places a chaste peck on Emma’s lips and that’s what takes the blonde out of her torpor. She deepens the kiss and her hands find Regina’s ass, squeeze it with all they have and, _oh my god_ , it’s a thong she’s wearing.

Regina smiles into the kiss and Emma can’t take it anymore, she lifts Regina’s body, settles her weight on her hips, legs around her torso, and starts moving towards the bed.

She’s always been strong but it’s only when she’s holding Regina like this that she’s ever felt a sense of _purpose_.

 

* * *

 

**_February 13 th, 2009_ **

Emma opens the door that leads to the balcony and sits on the lonely chair outside, body wrapped in a polar blanket. All the lights of the house are off and she’s content with being illuminated just by the night life of the city. She’s very fond of Boston. It’s liberal and cosmopolitan, the people are polite and well-educated. Living with Jane definitely helps make her feel less restless. Too bad Jane is at a college party somewhere and not here now to shut down the incessant meddling of her demons.

With a sigh, she pulls out a cigarette from a months-old pack and lights it with a match. Why she keeps losing lighters is a mystery she’ll never be able to solve.

Emma rarely smokes but she finds that a cigarette is her best friend when she has nothing for company but the sky and the scenery. She can no longer put a number on how many landscapes have been met with her and her cigarette in the nights where all she feels is lost.

She smokes at a very slow pace, strong intakes and long exhales, enjoying the way the smoke feels inside her and swirls around her. When the cigarette is burned out, she grabs her phone. This is very unusual, but tonight Emma can’t stand the idea of being alone. She browses her contact list aimlessly, looking for someone she’d enjoy catching up with. It should come as no surprise when her fingers stop their up and down dance at the sight of Regina’s name, but it still startles her, the butterflies in her stomach a sharp contrast to the lump in her throat.

She looks at the time. Eleven p.m. Regina is probably one of those people who goes to bed earlier than most children, after a fancy skin treatment that involves her almost falling asleep with slices of cucumber covering her eyes. She decides that it doesn’t matter and presses the green button before this new found courage abandons her like so many other things have done.

With each new ring, her hearts grows heavier inside her chest until it becomes unbearable and Emma is already resigned to her bad luck when a hoarse voice speaks on her ear, _“Emma?”_

She can’t believe the first time the woman calls her by her first name is over the phone but if the way her heart is fluttering and her legs have gone weak is any indication, it’s probably better this way.

_“Did something happen?”_

Regina sounds so concerned and Emma’s heart sings, sings, sings. “No,” she breathes, overflowed with joy and tenderness and _something else_. “Everything’s perfect.”

_“Is there any particular reason why you are calling me at this ungodly hour?”_

Emma rolls her eyes. Of course Regina would reset to regular bitchy mode as soon as the alarm was ruled as false. “I’m home alone and the night is beautiful. I thought…” She doesn’t really know what she thought. She’d just gone with her gut telling her she needed to be close to Regina. “I miss you,” she admits, so shy she doesn’t recognize herself, and immediately wants to hide in a deep hole and never crawl out.

 _“Oh,”_ Regina says, and the silence that settles between them is filled with expectations instead of awkwardness. Emma knows she’s trying to find words. _“It’s nice to hear your voice.”_

“Yeah?”

There’s a beat, and Emma swallows in anticipation.

_“Yes.”_

Emma figures this is the best she could hope for and holds on to it, leaning against the chair with her eyes shut. She feels the weight of the world on her shoulders and for a moment she doesn’t remember how it is that normal people strike conversations. But once again Regina is there, giving her a window of opportunity. _“Tell me a story about one of your travels.”_

And Emma does and they keep on talking about absolutely nothing important until Emma lies down on her bed and Regina falls asleep on the other side.

 

* * *

 

**_March 19 th, 2009_ **

“Okay, Regina is coming today and you’re gonna stay with her for the night?” Jane asks over a steaming mug of soy latte.

“Yes, she’s meeting me here in an hour or so,” Emma confirms in an exasperated tone, as if her sister is incredibly slow at understanding simple information. “No need to worry about dinner tonight.”

“She’s meeting you here? Don’t you usually meet in hotels?”

“I… guess?” Emma shrugs and plays with her cocoa for a moment, using the spoon to reach the dark liquid beneath the cream. “I dunno. We started talking more often than we used to, I called her one of those nights you were out at a party and it sort of… became a thing.”

Jane eyes her suspiciously and Emma expects a jab or a joke, but they never come. Her sister just slurps on her drink and nods. “So now you just meet earlier instead of wasting time waiting for the evening to come?”

“Something like that. I mean, I don’t really know. We agreed to do it this way today, but who knows? It’s not like we have rules for whatever it is we’re doing.”

“It can be argued that that is the best way to do things.” Jane smiles and starts sketching random figures on a napkin. “Less pressure, less expectations, less all the boring parts. Whatever it is you’re doing, you’re doing it right.”

“Yeah,” Emma whispers and she doesn’t seem so convinced herself, but lets the conversation drop. Jane seldom asks about Regina other than to keep track of Emma’s schedule and she is grateful for that. With a sigh, she pulls _A Perfectly Good Family_ out from her bag and finds the folded corner of the page where she’d last stopped.

They fall into a pleasant silence because this is how they work together, wherever they are. Jane studies and writes and draws, Emma just reads or watches the world. They have the kind of relationship where it feels right to be together when they don’t feel like being with anybody else.

The clickety-clack of heels draws Emma’s attention and she lifts her head from the book, a mortified expression taking over her features as she realizes who exactly just arrived at the café. “Regina, uh… hi.”

Jane snaps out of her personal bubble of poorly sketched super heroes in napkins and stares at Emma wide-eyed before she looks up to see the stunning brunette with her gaze fixed on her sister.

“Hello,” she says and Emma wants to run away and hide, because Regina is looking at her with that face that speaks with eyebrows instead of words.

“Jane, this is Regina,” Emma introduces, standing up and greeting Regina by holding her wrist for half a second. “Regina, this is Jane, my sister.”

Jane sort of waves, and it’s so clear she’s feeling awkward and out of place that Emma has to stifle a laugh. Regina raises her chin in appraisal before she settles on an almost smile, “Pleasure to meet you.”

“Same, same,” Jane sputters, grabbing her books and the collection of napkins. “Huh… I was just about to leave so I’ll, uh, leave you ladies to your business. Nice to meet you, Regina.”

“See you tomorrow, Janey.” Emma watches her go, making sure none of her precious napkins fall to the floor, and then focuses on Regina, a slight blush on her cheeks. “I’m sorry about that. I wasn’t expecting you so early.”

“My meeting was cut short due to an emergency,” Regina explains, and she seems to be judging the contents of the abandoned mugs. “Considering you are hardly ever on time, I didn’t think I would find you here already.”

“Yeah, I was just hanging out with Jane. She didn’t have classes this afternoon.”

Regina takes the book from her hand and reads the back cover. The warmth that Emma’s come to associate with the brunette still hasn’t made itself known and she feels like she was caught doing something wrong. “Jane is your sister, you say?”

“Yeah, yeah, she is,” Emma half pleads, letting out an anxious breath. “I was adopted, remember? So was Jane, by the way. It’s complicated.”

“I see.” Regina flips through the pages and, when she doesn’t find a bookmark, she finally locks eyes with Emma and says, as she closes the book, “Page 123.”

Emma is so tense she doesn’t have the courage to show annoyance. She will forget this happened and it’ll take forever to find the last passage she’d read again. “Should we go?”

“Yes.” Regina seems to snap out of whatever was upsetting her and smiles. She moves closer, their arms brushing, and no one in their right mind would think they were anything less than _lovers_. “I’m sorry if I sounded harsh, I… It wasn’t my intention.”

“It’s okay, don’t worry,” Emma declares, her pinky finger finding Regina’s. She never talks about her family, she also never talks about her past. All she does is talking a lot about travels and funny stories that have happened to her. “It’s a lot to take in.”

“It is.” Regina pulls her towards the exit and Emma feels warm again, for Regina understands. “Let’s go to the hotel.”

 

* * *

 

  ** _April 21 st, 2009_**

Emma is tracing gentle circles on Regina’s back. It’s the middle of the afternoon and for now they’re content with being tired and lazily staying in bed. Regina is lying on her stomach, eyes closed and a soft smile gracing her lips. Emma is lying on her side, head resting on her free hand.

They’ve reached an odd stage of intimacy together, one where fondness lies in small gestures and comforting silences.

“Can you tell me about Henry?” Emma asks, so quietly she’s not sure it is possible for Regina to hear her. But she does, for she opens her eyes to look up at Emma.

“You want to learn about my son?”

“Yeah,” Emma replies, candidly. “If you don’t mind.”

Regina props herself up on her elbow, her position mirroring Emma’s. “What do you want to know?”

“Whatever you want to tell me?” Emma shrugs and it’s awkward because she’s naked and she can’t feel her arm anymore so she falls back on the mattress. “What’s he like?”

“Henry is a very smart boy.”

“You would say that, you’re his mom!” Emma jokes, slapping Regina’s hip playfully.

“Emma Swan, how dare you doubt the truth in my words?”

“Never,” Emma says, leaning forward to plant a kiss on the tip of Regina’s nose. “He’s your son. Being smart was a given.”

Regina seems to take a moment to mull it over, as if she, of all people, would be the one to start an argument about nature over nurture. “Well,” she eventually drawls, “yes.”

“Did you raise him by yourself?”

“Mostly. But I believe it’s fair to say Kathryn has helped a lot.”

“Who’s Kathryn?” Emma asks, brow furrowed. She doesn’t recall Regina ever mentioning anybody other than Henry and she’s invaded by an odd sensation as though she can’t quite cope with the idea that there’s more to Regina’s life than the two of them – a son and an almost lover who don’t even know each other.

“She is Henry’s baby-sitter,” Regina answers and hesitates for a few seconds, before adding, “and she is my closest friend.”

“So Henry has two moms?” Emma winks and shifts to be closer to Regina, the length of their bodies now touching.

“ _I_ am Henry’s mother,” she says, but there’s a contemplative look in her eyes, as if she’s considering the possibility. “Kathryn is a very present aunt, at best.”

“Uhhh. Sorry, Momma Bear. Didn’t mean to offend.” Regina pinches her, like she always does when she’s annoyed, and Emma pretends it hurts. “Why did you decide to adopt?”

“I…” She swallows and lowers her eyes. Emma senses a lie might be about to come out but Regina surprises her, in the end. “My reasons were selfish. I was lonely and I was led to believe that a child could fill that void.”

“That’s…” Emma starts, one arm reaching Regina’s back, pulling her in. “That’s not a very good reason to have a kid.“ She kisses the top of her head and hums in her ear for a moment. “But I’ve heard worse.”

“So have I.”

“And has he?” Emma nudges, in between caresses. “Filled that void?”

“That is a very unfair burden to put on a child’s shoulders,” Regina’s lips are against Emma’s collarbone and Emma feels, rather than hears, the husky sound of the other woman’s voice. “He hasn’t. I don’t believe that is a task for him to accomplish. But he’s made me very, very happy.” Regina sighs and Emma dreams of a day when maybe she’ll be someone’s happiness. Or someone will be hers. “Henry is everything to me.”

Emma wants to tease her, tell her that maybe he is _almost_ everything because this is the second time Regina is in Boston this month. She doesn’t though. Regina is warm in her arms and they never really talk about what they’re doing.

“I’m glad.”

“What for?”

“I’m glad that he’s got you for a mom,” she murmurs, years of love she wishes she had deserved finding their way through her words. “I wish every kid could be so lucky.”

That Regina chooses that moment to initiate a hug for the first time (a hug that is clumsy and stiff and a wee-bit uncomfortable) is something they’ll never mention again.

 

* * *

 

**_May 19 th, 2009_ **

“You’re coming to Boston today?” Emma asks, the phone stuck between her shoulder and her ear while she deals with the discouraging amount of paperwork on her desk. “I thought you were only supposed to come next week?”

 _“There’s been a change of plans,”_ an audibly frustrated Regina replies. _“I found a potential new supplier and this is the only opportunity I have to meet with them before the Sales Manager goes on vacation. You know I don’t deal with peasants.”_

Emma laughs. “Peasants, huh?”

 _“They only waste my time,”_ Regina says in an indifferent tone. Emma sometimes wonders if the woman was a queen in another life. _“I’m on my way to Boston. I should be free at seven.”_

“Have you booked a hotel?”

_“No. Going to Boston was the last thing I had in mind for today.”_

“But it’s a pleasant surprise?” Emma teases, her grin creeping through the line. At Regina’s harrumph, she quickly goes on. “Don’t book the hotel yet. Send me the address of your meeting and I’ll pick you up.”

 _“You will pick me up?”_ Emma can imagine, down to the tiniest detail, the way Regina’s brow is arching right now. _“How chivalrous of you.”_

“I know, right? Lucky you!”

 _“Goodbye, Emma,”_ Regina cuts with a huff.

“See you later.”

*

“Why are we stopping at Royals?” Regina asks, with a frown. Emma doesn’t pay mind to it as it’s been on her face ever since Emma had convinced her to leave her car parked safely and to step foot in Emma’s bug. “I prefer repeating hotels as little as possible.”

They had gone to dinner together and the whole thing had come precariously close to looking like a date. Except that the two of them had come to the same realization at almost the same time and so there had been no intimate touching, no flirting and the proverbial argument to select who pays for the meal had been avoided by dividing the check equally.

Emma ignores her and enters the hotel’s garage, parking close to an elevator and turning to Regina. “Here’s the thing. My family owns the Royals hotel chain, okay?” she explains, trying to settle down the sudden jitters that are bursting through her. If Regina is not expecting that information, her poker face doesn’t let her reveal anything. “If you have to come here at least once a month, I thought you could save the money, maybe add it to Henry’s savings or something?” She looks down and starts playing with the hem of her shirt.

“You do understand that I can afford spending a night per month in any hotel in Boston?” Regina queries, neutrally.

“Well, yeah, but why would you if you don’t have to?”

“Because I can, Emma,” Regina says, so matter-of-factly Emma cringes. “I appreciate the gesture,” she adds, placing a hand above Emma’s knee. “It’s very thoughtful of you. But it really isn’t necessary.”

Emma breathes in and out, and in and out again, until she feels capable of facing Regina. Slouching in her seat, she removes a gold card from her jacket’s pocket. “Look, I get it. You have your thing, your little routine when you come to Boston and you’re always completely anonymous. I didn’t mean to… I don’t want to control your life or anything.” She extends the card and locks eyes with Regina. “I just thought it would be nice for you to have a place to go where you’d always be welcome.”

Regina is reluctant but takes the card and stares at it for a long moment with a pensive expression. She finds Emma’s hand again and entwines their fingers. “Thank you, Emma.” She leans forward and kisses her. “I know this is important to you.”

“No, it’s okay,” Emma replies, hating the tremor in her words. “It’s yours, you can stay here anytime.” She inhales sharply and shakes her head, centering herself. “And now what? Where do you want to go?”

Regina cups Emma’s face with both hands and smiles before kissing her again, not so gently this time. It’s needy and greedy, like she craves something Emma’s not sure she can give her. “Here,” she whispers, her forehead resting against Emma’s. “I want to stay here.”

 

* * *

 

**_June 18 th, 2009_ **

There’s a knock on the door and for once it’s Regina who gets up to go open it, leaving Emma alone in the balcony, sun on her face, city ahead. Summer is almost here and she can already feel it.

“Breakfast?” Regina asks, a heavy tray balanced on her arms, and Emma stands up to help her place the food on the table.

“I could kill for a coffee right now, so yeah,” Emma replies, filling up the white, impersonal mugs. Sometimes she finds there are more reasons to dislike hotels than to love them.

Regina likes her coffee black, Emma likes hers drowning in sugar. “You drink sugar with coffee, dear,” Regina always says, and Emma waves her off and they bask in the comfort of recognizing each other’s tastes and traits.

“Jam day?” Regina questions, knife in hand, robe half-open to reveal the smooth skin of her chest.

“Jam and butter today, please.”

Emma appreciates this motherly quality Regina has about her, how she pays attention and bothers to get to know her. Regina’s affection is restrained and hides away in small gestures. It’s _there_ but it’s so subtle that Emma feels light and free of the weight of expectations.

“I honestly don’t understand how you have that figure with the dreadful diet you put your body through.”

“I exercise a lot, you know?” Emma explains, mouth full, and Regina winces at the display. “Also, I guess maybe good genes? Whatever genes those might be.”

“Well aren’t you lucky?”

“Yeah,” Emma retorts, passing the bowl of fruit to Regina’s side of the table. “Can’t really complain.”

They sit and eat in silence for a couple of minutes. Emma’s fascination with cityscapes has her leaning back on her wicker chair, eyes lost on the horizon.

“Do you always look like that?” Regina prods, and Emma can hear the tenderness in her voice.

“Like what?”

“Like the world is impossibly vast and there’s no room for you in it.”

Emma smiles and her gaze locks with Regina’s. “Not always,” she opts to say, because sharing that Jane keeps her grounded and that Regina is becoming her anchor is a little too much.

“Do you enjoy travelling that much?” Regina knows that she does but she’s always curious to learn more and Emma indulges her in the ways she finds to bring up the topic. “How is it possible that you only speak English?”

“I’m terrible at languages,” Emma admits. “But I don’t speak only English. I know a bit of Japanese and…”

_“Japanese?”_

“Yeah," Emma breathes out. The story is rather long, and she feels uncomfortable sharing it. "My dad was a second-generation American Jew, met this Japanese lady at a business conference who he fell madly in love with. They had two kids, adopted another two, the whole shebang. Anyway, my mother liked teaching us expressions and useful sentences, that kind of thing. Said her children needed to learn more about her culture.”

“Liked?”

“My parents died in a car accident when I was 16. Guess that makes me a double orphan, huh?” Emma looks away for she still hasn’t learned the difference between pity and compassion, and there’s no way she can deal with Regina’s expression right now. “It was a long time ago.” She shrugs and is aware that the motion is both non-committal and self-deprecating.

“What other language do you speak then?” And there is Regina, offering her an opening like she’s been doing ever since they first met.

Maybe one day Emma won’t need these openings anymore.

 

* * *

 

**_July 22 nd, 2009_ **

Emma is so turned on she doesn’t know what to do with herself anymore. She’s been pounding away inside Regina with her strap-on for about three minutes, which is not a lot, but the way the base of the dildo is rubbing on her clit at a pace that is somewhere between pleasurable and maddening, together with the way Regina will look back at her every now and then, an eyebrow wickedly lifted and sweat glistening on her temples, is tipping her over the edge. She doesn’t want to leave Regina unsatisfied, but it’s hardly fair for a person to just _hold it in_ when the damned woman’s back is a flawless surface of tanned skin and, god, her _ass_.

Emma is gripping Regina’s hips so tight her nails must be leaving a mark but she’s beyond caring at this point. She doesn’t want to be standing on her knees, she wants to fall down on the bed and let Regina do everything as her own muscles are turning to jelly right before her eyes.

She groans and moans, waddles a little, smacks Regina’s glorious butt cheek, all in the struggle of trying to please the brunette first.

Nothing is cutting it.

That is, until Regina pulls away from her and turns around, rendering her efforts no longer necessary. There’s a smirk on her face as she crawls towards her and Emma is so worked up she doesn’t remember how to breathe, how to speak, how to fuck. She’s just kneeling there, cunt dripping wet and a ridiculous blue cock sticking out.

Regina puts it in her mouth so slowly it feels like time has stopped and Emma gasps as if there are actual sensory nerves on the fucking dildo. There may as well be for when Regina lets go with a loud _pop_ of her lips, Emma is just about ready to crumble.

But it’s Regina shifting the harness so she can penetrate Emma’s slit with her thumb and Emma’s asshole with her index finger, bringing them together _inside_ , that has the blonde finally crashing down in an orgasm so strong that her body explodes with mind-blowing sensations and she topples over Regina, no longer able to keep herself upright.

It takes a while for Emma to recover something resembling awareness. She feels Regina leaving the bed and hears a tap running in the bathroom before the soft kisses patiently planted on her shoulder bring her back to the world of the living. “Hey,” she mumbles, with the grace of an elephant in a crystal shop.

“Miss Swan,” Regina says, in that tone that promises infinite hours of sex. “I will need you to let me remove your… toy. It’s _my_ turn to play now.”

 

* * *

 

**_August 18 th, 2009_ **

“Regina?”

“Yes, dear?”

Emma follows the sound of the voice and stares at the bathroom entrance, where Regina appears, hair still wet, blow-drier in hand and wearing only a pair of red lace panties. The sight pushes Emma off the bed at a speed she didn’t know her morning self possessed and Regina is enveloped in an unexpected embrace. “God, why did you have to be so hot, woman?”

Regina laughs and drops the blow-drier on the carpet, her hands finding Emma’s ass. They kiss, shortly, sweetly, and Regina hides her face under Emma’s chin, nibbles at her collarbone. “I need to get ready.”

“Do you really have to go?” Emma whines without any trace of shame, burying her nose in the fresh scent of apples in Regina’s hair.

“Yes,” Regina says, and Emma feels soft lips on her neck. “You do remember I have a son waiting for me at home?”

“I know, I know.” Emma pulls away from Regina and holds her left hand. “Look, we never… We never really go out, right? We spend the night together and then we have breakfast and I’m not saying it’s not great, because it _so_ is, but… how about we try something a little different just this once?”

“Emma…” Regina sighs and looks down at their joined hands. “I don’t think this is a good idea.”

“Talk to Kathryn. Ask her to stay with Henry one more night. Please?” She takes one step closer and cups Regina’s cheek. “Just this once? I’ll show you how amazing Boston is.”

*

“Honestly, Emma,” Regina huffs, arms crossed over her chest, a skeptical look on her face. “This is where you wanted to bring me?”

“Come on, you gotta admit it’s cute!”

“ _Swan_ Boats?” She rolls her eyes and takes a step towards the lake. “There is nothing remotely _cute_ about that.”

“Well, I find them awesome and I want you to come with me,” Emma declares, with an inflated chest and a beam as blinding as the summer sun. At Regina’s pointed look, she visibly deflates, hiding her hands in the back pockets of her shorts. “I mean, I would like you to come with me?”

“I will go, yes,” Regina concedes and she moves so close to Emma the blonde thinks they’re gonna kiss. Of course, Regina being Regina, she walks past her at the last possible moment. “But you’re paying.”

*

“This is one of the best views in town.”

“If an entire business is built around it, it better be.”

“You’re such a kill-joy.”

“And you’re so easy to please.”

“We both know that’s not true.”

Regina harrumphs, “We both know that’s true _now_.”

“Only because I’m such a good teacher.”

_“Please.”_

*

“Did I finally get it right?” Emma asks, looking at how Regina’s eyes are gleaming. The sun just set and the not-so-dark colors of the early night are surrounding them. But Regina only has eyes for the orchestra ahead of her.

“Yes,” she breathes, and finds Emma’s hand, their fingers entwining.

“I’m glad.” Emma squeezes Regina’s hand and feels awkward, and a little nervous too. “I just wanted to see you happy.”

Regina closes her eyes, hums a little to the sound of the melody (the orchestra is playing Mozart, Emma thinks, but she’s never been good at identifying classical music), before turning to Emma with a smile so bright Emma’s heart skips a beat. Hell, it skips half a dozen and it might as well just have stopped entirely. “I am. Very happy.”

That really is all Emma needs.

 

* * *

 

**_September 22 nd, 2009_ **

When the bell rings, Emma rushes to open it and wraps her brother in a bear hug. “I am so glad you’re here, Josh!”

He lifts her off of the ground and walks inside, sparing a wink at their younger sister.

“About time!” Jane shoots, moving to sit at the dinner table. “The pizzas are getting cold.”

“Pizza?” Josh lets go of Emma and drops his backpack by the door before sitting next to his baby sister. “That’s awesome, I’m starving.”

“So are we.” Emma lays a short stack of napkins and a knife on the surface and joins them. “We’re waiting to hear all about your adventures. Spill.”

“Yeah, Josh,” the darker-skinned girl encourages in jest. “Tell us how backpacking around Europe for two months made you a better person.”

“Well, it did,” he says, mouth full of cheese and pepperoni. “I stayed away from hotels.”

“Uhhh. I must be an amazing human being then.”

“Me, on the other hand…” Emma adds with a chuckle. “How long are you gonna stay in Boston?”

“Just a couple of days. My classes start next week.”

“You can stay here,” Jane declares, with an earnest grin. “I’ll sleep with Emma and you can have my room.”

“I approve of that idea.” He sucks on his greasy fingers and looks at both his sisters, pure delight shining through his expression. “So what’s the plan for tonight?”

“I can’t stay, Josh. I’m sorry.” Emma notices the way Jane smirks but prefers to ignore it.

“What?! I thought nothing would be more important than the return of your brother.” He nudges her shoulder and bites on another slice. “What could you possibly have to do on a Tuesday night?”

“Regina, uh… Regina is in town. Actually, she’s already waiting for me but I wanted to see you before I left.” Emma offers a sheepish smile and shrugs as she starts nibbling at the pizza’s crust.

“Wait, Regina?” Josh asks, a look of recognition crossing his features. “ _The_ Regina?” He stares from one sister to the other, trying to understand what’s going on. “The hot woman you ditched us for on your birthday? You’ve been banging her for _a year?_ ” He’s so stunned that he lowers his slice to the napkin and Emma averts her eyes because she doesn’t know what upsets her more – the fact that Josh is surprised or the fact that she had never taken the time to think about it. The idea of a _year_ scares her shitless.

“Josh, don’t…” Jane starts and Emma catches her making a ‘kill’ gesture at her neck, her intent to put an end to wherever this conversation is headed very clear.

“Is that why you’re still in Boston?” Josh persists, oblivious to the heavy discomfort that has settled around them. “Are you dating her?”

“We are _not_ dating,” Emma denies, vehemently. “We’re just having sex and enjoying each other’s company every once in a while. That’s all there is to it.” Her hands are shaking and she hides them between her legs. Jane sighs and touches her brother’s elbow, trying to catch his attention.

“Sounds a hell lot like dating to me!” he jokes. “And here I thought you were staying around for Janey. You are _so_ whipped, Swan.”

Emma grits her teeth, feels her heart beating erratically. The fight or flight instinct is already buzzing through her veins and she needs to get out of here. “I am not whipped, Regina means _nothing_ to me.”

“You two stop, please,” Jane demands, and punches Josh’s arm before turning to look at the very agitated blonde beside her. “Emma, stop.” She holds her hand and their eyes meet. “You don’t mean that and you know it. There’s nothing wrong with having feelings for someone.”

“I do _not_ have feelings for Regina, not that way,” she insists, frantic and terrified. “We fuck and it’s great. That’s it.”

“It’s too late for all that, Emma,” she replies, and she sounds so tired and frustrated that it physically hurts. “This trembling you’re trying to hide? All these attempts at denial?” She shakes her head and Emma doesn’t want to deal with her sister’s disappointment right now, it’s the last thing she needs. “The cat’s out of the bag and I know _you_. I know you and there’s no way that cat is getting back inside any bag now.” She places a hand on Emma’s shoulder and grips a little too tightly. “So before you leave and do something incredibly stupid, please remember that I’ve known you for most of my life and I’ve never seen you this happy. It’s okay to be happy, you _deserve_ to be happy.”

Emma gets up with such force the chair almost falls back. “I’m outta here.” Grabbing her bag and her leather jacket from the coat hanger, she opens the door. Her eyes are filled with tears she desperately wills away.

“Shit,” she hears Josh mumble. “I should’ve known…”

“Yeah, Josh,” Jane cuts him off, and she’s so angry that Emma’s tears start falling. “You fucking should have.”

Emma shuts the door.

And runs.

*

Regina is asleep. They had fucked for over two hours, no gentleness nor softness in their touches. Emma had bit hard and sucked hard and _fucked_ hard, relentlessly, until Regina could take no more. She had watched the woman fall asleep, a mix of panic and affection battling inside her chest.

Regina looks beautiful when she sleeps. She looks peaceful and small and it’s no wonder Emma has awoken wrapped in her arms so many times in the past few months.

She won’t be able to sleep, not tonight, so she gets up quietly and walks to the window, not bothering to cover her nudity. There are no clouds in the sky but she can’t see the stars, only the city lights. She misses the open skies of villages and smaller cities. She misses the open skies of _freedom_.

“Emma?” Regina calls, voice laced with sleep, and Emma turns to see her raising her head from the pillow, a fond smile in that perfect face of hers. “Come back to bed.”

“I’m leaving Boston,” Emma announces, and panic wins.

“What…?” Regina asks, very slowly, and Emma can almost pretend her voice didn’t break.

“My sister is well-settled, she has friends now. I was never supposed to stay this long…” she trails off because they both know exactly _why_ Emma has stayed in Boston for a year.

There is a deafening moment of silence and Emma swears it feels like dying but instead of seeing her life before her eyes, she’s seeing her year with Regina and with each flash inside her mind, the real Regina, the Regina that is _here_ , hardens and shuts off. It fucking hurts and Emma’s eyes fill with tears for the second time in one night.

“Get out.” Regina is sitting up now, back straight against the headboard, body covered by the duvet. She is every bit the cold and spiteful woman Emma had met a year ago.

“Regina…”

“No, Emma.” Her fists are clutching the sheets so hard her knuckles have turned white and she lifts her chin to stare at Emma straight in the eye. “You need to leave. Right now.”

“I…” But Regina looks away, jaw so tense Emma fears it might crack.

She feels foolish, naked in the middle of the enormous room. Picking her clothes one item at a time, she’s never felt so ashamed in her life. She feels like the shittiest scum of society and god knows she has massively screwed up before.

Getting dressed is a chore and her skin feels attacked and raw. She approaches the bed and wishes she didn’t for she has no right to see Regina Mills cry.

“I’m so sorry…” she begs but the lump in her throat and the feeling of dread in the pit of her stomach don’t give her space for more.

Emma closes her eyes, turns away and leaves.

*

She’s not at all surprised when she ends up in the airport. And hates herself for it.

 

* * *

 

**_October 22 nd, 2009_ **

Rooftops are her favorite part of India. Seeing places from above is a fascination she recalls from the times when she was so young she barely understood anything at all. In India, she can always see the stars even if she can’t always breathe right because of the dirty air that gets glued to her insides.

She’s just finished her dinner and is enjoying a _lassi_ on the couch by the corner. There are many foreigners here. She likes it, it makes her feel safer.

The ringing of her phone pulls her out of her reverie and she answers it without paying attention to what she’s doing, “Swan.”

_“Happy birthday!”_

“Jane,” she sighs, with a smile. “Thank you.”

_“So where in the world are you spending this one?”_

“Jaisalmer.”

 _“Jaisalmer? Jaisalmer, India?”_ Jane practically screams. _“You asshole! I can’t believe you went to India without me!”_

“Yeah, I wanted to feel close to you somehow.” It’s the truth, however silly. “Felt like the best possible option.”

_“You know there’s another option called Boston, right?”_

“I already know Boston.”

Jane snorts. _“Right.”_

The line goes silent, neither of them knowing what to say.

“Jane?”

_“Yes?”_

“I’m sorry I hurt you.”

 _“No need to apologize to me, Emma,”_ Jane says, in that grown-up tone she gets. _“I am familiar with the price of loving you.”_

“I’m sorry,” Emma repeats. “I didn’t even say goodbye.”

_“You never do.”_

“I did the right thing.”

_“You know my opinion on that.”_

“I would’ve hurt her. She would’ve left.”

 _“So you leave first?”_ Jane mocks. _“Stellar logic, Swan.”_

Another silence.

“I fucked up, didn’t I?”

Her sister half-laughs, half-sighs, and Emma gets the message: understatement of the century. _“It’s okay. I don’t love you any less. I’m just royally mad at you.”_

“Thank you.”

_“For what?”_

“For not abandoning me.”

 _“Never,”_ Jane declares, both teasing and solemnly. _“I love you.”_

“I love you too.” Emma rests her chin on her hand and looks out to the landscape. Everything feels sun-colored in Jaisalmer, even at night, and she finds comfort in how big the world is and in how much she still wants to see. “I gotta go.”

 _“See you in another life, sister,”_ Jane says, and hangs up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Titles of story/chapters were taken from the song "Boston", by The Dresden Dolls (except Chapter 2, that came from "Into Dust", by Mazzy Star).
> 
> Many thanks to the mods of the Swan Queen Big Bang for organising this AMAZING initiative - you got me into writing, that's a feat!
> 
> And to any readers out there, if you're so inclined, come find me on tumblr: I'm ohthesefeelingz over there.


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